


In Too Deep

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Secret Relationship, Smut, Stalking, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-07-08 15:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 35,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19871878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: Your history professor is so hot, it’s distracting.





	1. Sinful Secrets

“You’re drooling,” Bucky laughed, leaning over to tap your desk with his pencil.

“So are you,” you shot back.

“Well, yeah,” your best friend snorted, his eyes on the front of the classroom, watching your history professor pacing back and forth from one end of the room to another.

Everybody in the classroom was watching your history professor and it wasn’t because his lecture was fascinating. Professor Steve Rogers, professor of both English Literature and History, was by far the most attractive professor at the university; tall, muscular, broad shoulders, hair just a little too-long hair but just made for running your fingers through, and a well-groomed beard. It wasn’t hard to imagine how that would feel rubbing against your -”

“Y/N?”

Bucky’s loud whisper forced you out of your extremely pleasant daydream about the professor that was so hot he made all the girls - and a lot of the guys - swoon. You shot a glare his direction and mouthed “what?” at him. He pointed at your open laptop. There was a message on your screen from him.

_You should ask him out for coffee._

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, then you quickly typed out a response.

**_Yeah, right. He’s my professor. It’s unethical for him to date a student._ **

Bucky mimicked your eye roll and shook his head. He quickly typed an answer and stabbed the send button.

_Whatever. You’re a grad student and you’re what, maybe 4 or 5 years younger than him? Ask him out._

**_Maybe he’s gay? Maybe YOU should ask him out._ **

_He’s not. Rumor has it he dated Peggy Carter in the Science department for a couple of years. A rumor I believe to be true._

**_He could be bi. You never know unless you ask. :-)_ **

_He’s not gay. I’d know if he was. Seriously, Y/N, ask him out._

**_And embarrass myself? I don’t think so. I’ll stick to fantasizing from afar._ **

_Your loss._

You tried to concentrate on the rest of Professor Rogers’ lecture, but your mind kept drifting, fueled by what Bucky had said and your own imagination. You managed to take a few notes, but not nearly as much as you should have and the class was over before you knew it.

Bucky gathered his things, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you did the same. He leaned against your desk, his fingers tapping lightly on the wood.

“Ask him out, Y/N,” he urged.

“Bucky, stop it,” you hissed. “I’m not asking him out. Would you just drop it?”

Bucky gave you his best smile, the one that had melted the hearts of hundreds of men. “I’ll think about it. Come on, let’s go grab some coffee. Clint’s at the student union, waiting for us.”

“I can’t. I have a huge calc final tomorrow and I need to study. I’m putting myself on lockdown for the rest of the day. Tomorrow? Tell Clint ‘hi” for me though.”

Bucky kissed your cheek and slung his backpack over his shoulder, disappearing into the crowd of students exiting the classroom. You sat back in your seat, waiting for the last group of students to leave the classroom. Once there were only a couple of people left, you slipped out of your seat and started down the stairs of the huge lecture hall, intent on speaking to the object of your daydreams.

Professor Rogers leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his chest, nodding at something the young lady standing in front of him was saying. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and held up one finger, indicating he’d be with you in a minute.

“Three days, Ms. Danvers,” he said. “You can miss three days a semester. I thought I made that clear in the syllabus.” You could clearly hear the irritation in his voice.

The young lady, Carol Danvers, sighed and rolled her eyes. “You did, but I was hoping you would make an exception for me?” She smiled up at him, stepping closer and putting her hand on his arm. “Just this once?”

Professor Rogers shook his head. “I don’t make exceptions,” he said firmly. “You’ll have to figure something out. Or drop the class and take it next semester.”

Carol exhaled loudly, her chin in the air. “Fine,” she muttered, spinning on her heel, her elbow smacking yours as she pushed past you and stomped up the stairs.

“Wow,” you mouthed.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Y/L/N?” Professor Rogers asked, flinching when the classroom door slammed behind Carol’s retreating form.

“I was wondering if I could get a copy of the lecture notes,” you smiled. “I, uh, I was a little distracted during class.”

“Oh?” A smile spread across his face. He glanced over your shoulder, pushed a hand through his hair, and took a step closer, right into your personal space, the scent of his cologne assaulting you, so close you itched to touch him. “May I ask what was so distracting?”

Heat rose in your cheeks and you had to bite your lip to hold back a moan of desire. You swallowed, your mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara desert.

“You,” you murmured.

Fire shot through Professor Rogers’ ice blue eyes as he ducked his head and caught your lips in his. Steve’s kisses were sweet and demanding, an unbelievable combination of innocent and naughty all mixed together. Both of his arms slid around your waist, your bag falling to the floor at your feet as you clasped your hands around the back of his neck. You moaned quietly, the sound swallowed by Steve’s mouth on yours. 

He lifted you, his hands sliding over your ass to grab your thighs as he picked you up. He turned around and set you on the edge of his desk, still kissing you, his hands now roving over the top of your t-shirt, the heat between you a living, breathing thing. It was as if the two of you were the only people in the world, totally engrossed in each other, the world and all of its distractions gone, just you and Steve.

It had been like that since the day you’d met Steve almost two months earlier. You were working at a small coffee shop not far from the university when Professor Rogers walked in. You hadn’t known who he was at the time, you hadn’t taken any of his courses, all you knew was that the man standing in front of you exuded masculinity and you were insanely attracted to him. The two of you had struck up a conversation and before you’d known what was happening, you’d agreed to go out with him, the undeniable attraction between the two of you drawing you in. It wasn’t until right before school started - and you were in too deep to turn back - that you discovered he was a professor at the university.

“I missed you,” he murmured.

“You just saw me on Saturday,” you giggled, wrapping your legs around the back of his, pulling him closer. You felt him smile against your mouth as he moved in, his body flush against yours.

“That was forever ago,” he muttered, his mouth slanting over yours, his grip tightening. “I hate this.”

“Me too,” you sighed, sinking into him.

“This” was keeping your relationship a secret. Despite the less than 5 year age gap between the two of you and the fact that you were a consenting adult, Steve could lose his job if anyone found out you were dating. Especially since you were one of his students, something that had happened completely on accident after Dr. Erskine had to unexpectedly go to Germany due to a family emergency and Steve had agreed to take over a couple of his classes. You’d been shocked when you’d walked in the first day of class and saw him standing at the front of the room.

Yet, you’d continued seeing each other, despite the risk. The things he made you feel couldn’t be denied. And he was willing to risk everything to be with you, swearing he couldn’t lose you, no matter what. Thus had begun the hottest, most fulfilling, most clandestine affair imaginable.

Steve’s teeth sinking into your neck drew you out of your thoughts, a startled gasp escaping you as raw heat shot through you. You twisted your hand in the collar of his shirt and opened his jeans with the other hand, slipping it into the waistband of his underwear, your fingers grazing him. Steve groaned and took a step back.

“Hold that thought,” he grumbled, looking over his shoulder at the classroom door. He picked you up, your legs around his waist, and in three quick steps, he opened a door next to the chalkboard, stepped inside and closed it with his hip. He flipped the lock before striding across the room and setting you on the tattered couch against the wall. 

“Ooh, Professor Rogers, in your office?” you purred. “That’s a first.”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your legs open. “Call me Professor Rogers again,” he murmured, his lips just grazing yours.

Your hand returned to the waistband of his jeans, cupping him through the thick denim. Steve groaned, his strong fingers kneading the muscles of your thighs, tingles of anticipation settling right between your legs. You put your other hand over his and gave it a tug, pulling it higher until it was beneath your skirt, resting between your legs. “Mmm, Professor Rogers,” you sighed, squirming, desperate for some kind of friction.

Steve kissed you possessively, one hand sliding under your ass to pull you closer, his other hand pressing against you, rubbing gently. You wiggled, desperate to get closer to him, desperate to have him touch you. You wanted his hands everywhere, wanted to feel him everywhere. His fingers moved to the edge of your panties, drifting along the edge of them. You laid down, sprawled over the couch, pulling him down with you, sighing as the weight of his body settled on yours.

You tangled your fingers in his hair and gave it a sharp tug. Steve growled deep in his throat, his lip curling. The vein in his neck pulsed, just begging for your teeth and tongue. A quiet groan escaped you, your body trembling.

Steve’s hands roamed over your body, finally settling on the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down until you could kick them off. He pushed up your t-shirt, his hand resting on the bare skin of your stomach as his lips drifted down your neck. He mouthed your breasts, your nipples tightening beneath the thin cotton of the shirt, desire twisting in the pit of your stomach. He moved down your body, covering you in wet, open-mouthed kisses.

You wiggled beneath him, moaning as he pulled your legs over his shoulders, the soft hairs of his beard tickling your stomach and your upper thighs. One hand slid up your thigh to slowly caress you, his tongue darting out to lick along your soft folds. You gasped, your hands fisted in his hair, your hips rising to meet his mouth.

“So eager,” he chuckled. He hummed low in the back of his throat and sucked your clit into his mouth, slowly slipping his finger inside of you, pumping it carefully in and out.

Your eyes closed as Steve gently but firmly explored you with his tongue and his fingers. He eased you along, tasting, sucking, and licking until you were writhing beneath him, begging for more. He buried his head between your legs, moving it from side to side, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you close, his tongue sliding deep inside you alongside his fingers, his thumb pressed against your clit, moving in tight, even circles.

You shattered to pieces, the orgasm roaring through you, galaxies exploding behind your closed eyes, your heart pounding, pulse racing. You gripped his broad shoulders, your nails digging into his taut muscles. You’d never felt anything like what he was doing to you with just his mouth and his hand. He was like a man possessed, possessed with the singular idea of giving you pleasure.

When he finally released you, you were gasping and moaning, your body burning with want. “Wow, Professor Rogers,” you murmured. “That was impressive.”

“I love it when you call me that,” he smirked. He pushed himself to his knees and opened his pants the rest of the way, pushing them down just enough to free himself. He stroked himself several times before pulling a condom from his pocket, opening it, and sliding it on. He leaned back over you, his mouth on yours, his kisses needy and insistent. His hand slipped beneath your shirt and cupped your breast, caressing it through the thin lace of your bra.

His cock was hard, pressing into your leg. You pushed a hand between your bodies and took him in your hand, stroking him roughly. He moaned, your slick still on his lips, the taste of you flooding your mouth. Your hips raised to meet his and he eased into you, his hands sliding under your ass, lifting you as he entered you. 

An overwhelming sense of _rightness_ washed over you as Steve filled you, a sense that you weren’t meant to be anywhere else or with anyone else. The two of you were completely in touch with each other’s wants and needs, each moan answered with a quiet sigh or a not-so-subtle groan.

You wrapped an arm around Steve’s neck and your other arm was thrown over the arm of the couch, holding on tight as Steve slammed into you over and over. Every inch of your body was on fire, every part of you screaming for more, needing more. You were nothing but a wanton mass of lust, your body sliding and rubbing against Steve’s, hands touching and caressing, mouths tasting and consuming, the only thing between the two of you the need to give the other as much pleasure as possible.

You wrapped your legs around the back of his thighs, pulling him into you, your hips rising up to meet his as his thrusts became harder, deeper, longer. A dam burst inside you, heat exploding outward, rushing through your nerve endings, your mind reeling from the force of what you were feeling, what you were experiencing, this orgasm better than the first.

Steve groaned as your walls clamped down on him, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own pleasure. He held you tighter, his body tensing as he came with a low moan of your name. He kept his arms wrapped around you, nestled close to him, a smile on his face as he rained kisses across your face. You cupped his cheek and dragged your fingers through his beard. He turned his head and kissed the palm of your hand, then he dropped his head, resting it against your neck. He pressed gentle kisses all over your neck, against your racing pulse. You sighed and closed your eyes.

A sharp knock on Steve’s office door, loud and insistent, caused both of you to jump.

“Steve! You in there?”

“Shit,” Steve muttered. “It’s Sam.” He quickly scrambled to his feet and stood beside the couch - his face slightly flushed, his lips kiss swollen, his hair a mess. He buttoned his jeans, ran a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to tame it, grabbed the flag quilt that was draped over the back of the couch, and tossed it over you, then he held a finger to his lips before turning and hurrying across the room. 

You heard Steve open the door and low voices talking, but you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. A minute or so passed before the door closed and Steve came back across the room. He snatched your underwear off the floor, took your hand, and helped you to your feet. He pushed your panties into your hand, a smirk on his face.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go. Emergency department meeting.” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tight against his chest, your head tucked under his chin. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You buried your face against his chest, inhaling deeply, his scent enveloping over you. “If you really have to...” you mumbled.

Steve chuckled low in the back of his throat. He squeezed you tight, taking your breath away, then he kissed your cheek. His lips slid along the edge of your jaw, his beard tickling your neck. When he reached your mouth, he nibbled at your bottom lip until you opened your mouth and his tongue slipped in, just dancing over your teeth.

Despite the mind-blowing sex you’d just had, every inch of your body throbbed with desire and you knew Steve felt the same way. Unfortunately, he pulled away, far too soon. He pressed several more soft kisses to your lips as he led you out of his office and back into the classroom. He picked up your bag while you slipped on your underwear, then he cupped the back of your head in his large hand, his fingers briefly tangling in your hair, pulling you close so he could kiss you again, a long, deep, mind-blowing kiss.

“I’ll call you tonight,” he murmured before turning and sprinting up the stairs and out the door.


	2. Bitter Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You long for a normal relationship with Professor Rogers. Some days are harder than others.

You’d just slipped your shirt over your head - the same shirt you’d worn last night - when Steve emerged from the bathroom, a towel around his waist, his wet hair slicked back from his face, droplets of water still glistening on his torso. Your breath caught in your throat just looking at him. It should be illegal for the man to walk around looking like that.

“Are you leaving?” he asked, rifling through the top drawer of his dresser while holding the towel in place, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes,” you replied. “I have an early class.” You buttoned your jeans before looking around the bedroom. “Have you seen my backpack?”

“I think it’s on the coffee table,” he said. He tossed the towel on the end of the bed and pulled on his boxer briefs, then he grabbed your elbow, tugged you close, and kissed you, his beard tickling your cheek.

“Steve, I have to go,” you whispered against his lips, even though you’d much rather crawl back into bed with the professor. “I’m going to be late.” You pulled away and backed toward the door. “If you hurry, you can tell me goodbye.”

You pulled open the bedroom door and hurried into the living room, snatching your backpack off the coffee table as you passed it on your way to the kitchen. You grabbed a bottle of orange juice from the fridge, popped off the lid, and stood by the sink, drinking it and waiting, staring out the tiny window that overlooked the street. It wasn’t more than a few minutes before you felt strong arms wrapping around your waist and a bearded chin resting on your shoulder. You relaxed into his Steve’s arms, your head falling back against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his lips pressed to your throat.

“I know.” You turned in his arms, your arms going around his neck, your cheek resting against his chest. “Most days, I’m not.”

Steve rested his chin on top of your head and hugged you close. “Most days?” he whispered.

“Most of the time I’m okay with how things are,” you sighed. ”Do I wish we could have a normal relationship, not hide it from everyone? Of course I do. But, I know that’s not possible right now. I know I can wait. I’ll take what we’ve got for now. But, sometimes, I’m angry and frustrated with the university’s archaic rules forcing us to hide our relationship. If Dr. Erskine was here, he would be my professor, not you and all of that wouldn’t matter. We could be together.”

“I’ll make it up to you, doll, I swear,” he murmured. “As soon as I can.”

“I know you will.” You pulled him down into a long, deep kiss. After a few seconds, you extricated yourself from his arms, grabbed your backpack off the counter where you’d set it, and dug out your car keys. “I really have to go. I’ll see you in class.” You hurried out the door and down the back stairs of the apartment building.

Your car was parked around the corner and across the street from Steve’s apartment. You were so caught up in your own thoughts you almost stepped off the curb right in front of a black motorcycle speeding down the street, a startled squeak leaving you as you stumbled back to avoid getting hit. You cursed under your breath and pulled your sweater tight around yourself, shivering in the chilly morning air. You turned on the heat as soon as you had your car on and checked the clock. You had less than an hour before your first class.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you grumbled, checking your mirror before pulling into traffic. You’d be lucky if you made it on time.

* * *

You weren’t on time and it threw your entire day off-kilter. You’d had to take a cold shower because your roommate, Nat, used all the hot water, you forgot to grab your English lit paper off the printer, so you’d had to detour to the library to print another copy, and you’d skipped lunch. By the time you slid into your seat in Professor Rogers’ class, ten minutes late, you were in a terrible mood, tired, irritable, and you had a pounding headache. You just wanted to go home and take a nap. Steve’s disapproving look certainly didn’t make you feel any better.

You ignored him, doing your best not to make eye contact as you pulled your laptop from your bag. Once it was powered up, you quickly copied the notes from the board while you listened to his lecture, even though the headache seemed to be getting worse by the minute, making it hard to concentrate.

_Are you okay?_

You glanced at Bucky out of the corner of your eye before answering the message he’d sent.

**_Yeah. Bad day. Tired, hungry, and I’m getting a headache._ **

_I have the perfect remedy. Come out with us tonight._

**_Who’s us?_ **

_Me, Clint, Nat. We’re gonna go to that place downtown, the new one, shoot some pool._

**_I don’t know, Buck. I’m tired._ **

_Y/N, you haven’t been out with us in more than two months. Come with us. It will be fun. We miss you._

Bucky was right; you hadn’t been out with your friends in more than two months, not since you’d started seeing Steve. Maybe you needed a night out with your friends, something normal. Steve would understand.

 **_Okay. But you have to feed me before we drink, otherwise, I’ll be a mess_ ** _._

 _Deal! I’ll give you the details after class_.

You scrubbed a hand over your face and sighed. All of the secrets were starting to have a toll on you, despite your best efforts to not let it get to you. Hiding your relationship with Steve seemed to be getting harder, especially as your feelings for the professor grew. And even though you’d told Steve you would take what you could get, you couldn’t help but long for a normal relationship, one where you could go on a real date, one where you didn’t have to sneak in and out of his apartment, one where you could walk around town as a couple.

“Ms. Y/L/N, may I speak to you a moment?” Steve said from the front of the class.

You jumped, so caught up in your own thoughts that you hadn’t even realized class was over. You cleared your throat and rose to your feet. “Of course, Professor Rogers,” you mumbled.

Bucky squeezed your arm as you passed him. “I’ll meet you outside.”

“Give me five minutes,” you said. You quickly shoved your things in your bag and pushed past the other students leaving the room. You stopped in front of Steve’s desk.

He rose to his feet, towering over you. “Hey, you okay?” he asked quietly, keeping his voice low so the conversation stayed between the two of you. Once you heard the door close behind what you presumed to be the last student, he stepped closer to you, his hand on your waist. He ducked his head and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

For some reason, tears pooled in the corner of your eyes. You swallowed past the lump rising in your throat and nodded. “I had a really crappy day,” you shrugged. “Whatever could go wrong, did.”

“Oh, doll, I’m sorry,” Steve whispered. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I just...I’m gonna go out with my friends tonight. I need...I just need to do something normal, you know? Not hide out in your apartment for the night.”

A pained expression crossed Steve’s face, so quick you immediately wondered if you’d even really seen it. He nodded and kissed the top of your head. “Of course.” He pushed a hand through his hair and chuckled nervously. “Funny you should bring that up, Sam was just harassing me to go out with him for a beer. It might do us both good to have a night out.”

You nodded and pushed up on your toes so you could kiss him. “I’ll call you later, okay?” you murmured. “I have to meet Bucky.”

“Have fun,” he called after you as you sprinted up the stairs.

* * *

You slumped in the booth and sipped your beer, watching as Bucky and Clint played pool. You couldn’t get the image of Steve and the pained expression on his face out of your head, nor could you shake the feeling that he’d been upset with you. You took your phone from your pocket, hoping he’d texted you. He hadn’t, so you sent him one, hoping it would smooth things over between the two of you.

 **_Having fun, miss you tho!_ ** 😘 

So what if it was a lie? He didn’t know that. You shoved your phone back in your pocket just as Nat appeared at the table with more drinks, french fries, and nachos in her hand. She set everything down and dropped into the seat across from you, one perfectly shaped red eyebrow raised, her head tipped to one side.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“You are the third person to ask me that today and it’s getting old,” you muttered, shoving a fry into your mouth. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, sheesh, grumpy, sorry,” Nat said, hands up and a smirk on her face. “What? Are you tired from the late night you had?”

“What?” You feigned innocence.

“When are you gonna tell me who he is?” Nat probed. She knew you were dating someone - it was hard to hide your late nights out and nights away from home - but you had repeatedly refused to tell her who it was.

“When I’m ready,” you shrugged. “And I’m not ready.” Except you were ready; you desperately wanted to tell someone, wanted someone to know how happy you were, how Steve made you feel, and how you just might be falling in love with Professor Rogers.

“Oh my God, is that Professor Rogers?”

Your head snapped up. “What? Where?” You turned around, looking in the direction Nat pointed.

“Over there, on the other side of the bar,” Natasha said, gesturing at the other side of the room. “Aren’t you in one of his classes?”

Steve _was_ there, standing on the other side of the room with a couple of other professors. Sam Wilson, his best friend, and Peggy Carter from the science department. You turned back around before he saw you, ducking slightly. “He’s teaching Dr. Erskine’s graduate class until he gets back,” you nodded. “The one I’m taking.”

“He’s so gorgeous,” Nat sighed. “Do you think he’d ever date a student?”

Jealousy twisted through the pit of your stomach and you had to resist the urge to reach across the table and slap your friend across the face. Instead, you snorted, grabbed your beer, and downed half of it in a couple of swallows.

“Professor Wilson is pretty attractive. Carter, too,” she giggled, staring over your shoulder.

“Does Clint know you’re lusting over half the school?” you mumbled.

“Yes,” Nat nodded. “And he loves me despite all that.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Nat’s antics. You did your best to ignore the fact that Steve was on the other side of the room, laughing and having a good time, with a woman he’d supposedly dated nonetheless. As the night wore on, you found yourself constantly looking over your shoulder, watching him. The jealousy you’d felt toward Nat was nothing compared to the bitter envy caused by Peggy putting her hands on Steve, the sight making your stomach roll. Every time she touched his arm or bumped her shoulder into his, vomit rose in the back of your throat. Every time she touched him, you found yourself reaching for your drink, hoping it would help ease the pain and obliterate the jealousy you were feeling. When Steve leaned over her to help her line up a shot, you shoved yourself out of the booth, stumbling over Nat’s feet as you excused yourself and hurried through the crowds of people to the restroom.

You stepped into the first empty stall, slammed it shut, and threw the lock, just before your gorge rose and everything you’d had to eat and drink came flying out of you. You heard a few muffled ‘ews’ and shuffled footsteps and then nothing. God, you’d prayed that meant that the bathroom had emptied out. You hadn’t puked in a bar bathroom since your sophomore year of college.

You rose to your feet, grimacing when you got a look at the dirty bathroom floor you’d been kneeling on, and made your way to the sink. You had to brace yourself against the wall to keep from falling down. You must have had more to drink than you thought, though you didn’t remember drinking that much. You rinsed out your mouth and splashed some water on your face, then slowly and carefully made your way back to the table.

Halfway across the massive room, you stopped and leaned against the bar, your head spinning and your stomach clenching uncomfortably. Your eyes were immediately drawn to Steve standing beside a pool table, his beer held loosely between two fingers, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. When he turned to take the pool cue from Peggy, his eyes landed on you. He immediately straightened, concern coloring his features. He took a step toward you, but you shook your head, spun on your heel, and pushed your way through the masses of people back to your table.

You eased into the booth beside Bucky, smiling weakly at your friends. It was time to go. So much for a night out with your friends. You were miserable and you wanted to go home. You took a sip from the bottle of water sitting in the center of the table then you patted Bucky on the arm.

“Give me my purse, would you Buck? I’m gonna go.”

Before Bucky could put your purse in your hand, Nat grabbed it and dumped it on the table. She dug your keys out of the pile, pushed everything back into your bag and set it in front of you.

“You’re not driving,” she said. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

“Fine, whatever,” you grumbled. You slid out of the booth, your purse clutched in one hand, phone in the other. “I’ll call an Uber.” You stomped out of the bar, ignoring your friends shouting after you, desperate to get away from them, from Steve, from everyone.

Outside, you passed the window and caught yet another glimpse of Steve and, unfortunately, Peggy. She had one hip propped against the table where Steve was sitting, laughing, her head thrown back, a hand on his shoulder, her perfect blood-red lips making her look as if she had already devoured your professor. You leaned against the wall beside the window, intending to stay there for just a minute to catch your breath. You tried to push yourself away from the wall but a wave of dizziness hit you.

“Damn it,” you mumbled to yourself, falling back against the wall, your cell phone falling from your hand to the ground. “Shit.” You closed your eyes and sighed heavily.

“Here.”

Steve stood in front of you, your cell phone in his hand. You took it from him and shoved it in your pocket.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” he murmured. He put his hand on your arm, rubbing it gently. “You don’t look so good, doll.”

“I don’t feel so good,” you muttered. “I’ve had too much to drink and I was trying to get an Uber…”

The door opened behind him and Peggy peered around the corner. “Hey, it’s your turn,” she smiled.

“Hey, Peg.” Steve shifted from one foot to the other, then he pointed at you. “This is Y/N, one of my students.”

“Hello,” Peggy said, her eyes briefly flickering your way before turning back to Steve. “Are you coming?”

“I think I’m going to drive Y/N home,” he told her. “Could you tell Sam goodbye for me?”

Peggy stepped outside, a confused look on her face. “Um, are you sure about that, Steve?”

Steve nodded and took hold of your elbow. “It’s fine,” he said. “Trust me, Peg, okay?”

Peggy grimaced, her chin tipping in a brief nod. “I’ll talk to you later,” she said, the words sounding more like a demand than a promise.

Steve grunted something that sounded like okay and steered you away from the bar toward his gunmetal gray 1969 Mustang. He opened the door and helped you inside before he climbed into the car and slammed the door.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here with Peggy?” you muttered. “I can still get an Uber.”

“No, I don’t want to stay here with Peggy,” Steve sighed. “I’ve never seen you like this. What is wrong with you?”

“It’s called jealousy, Professor Rogers,” you snapped. You pressed your fingers to the center of your forehead, rubbing the spot just above your eyes. “It’s what happens when you spend the evening watching your boyfriend’s ex fawn all over him and put her hands all over him. Wait, I’m sorry, I’m not supposed to call you that, am I? You’re not my boyfriend, you’re the teacher I’m secretly screwing.” You grimaced even as the words came out of your mouth, immediately regretting them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Steve’s mouth drop open, then snap shut. He gnawed at his lower lip, his brow furrowed, holding the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He exhaled loudly. 

“That’s not fair, Y/N,” he growled.

“Nothing about this is fair,” you sighed. “Fair would have been meeting you _after_ I graduated, or you not being a professor at the university I attend, fair would have been anything other than this. Sometimes it’s too much to deal with and today was one of those days.” You scrubbed a hand over your face and sighed. “Where are we going?”

“Your apartment,” Steve answered.

“We're not going back to your place?" you whispered. You assumed when he offered to take you home that he'd meant his home. You'd obviously been wrong.

"No," Steve said. “You need to sleep off the alcohol. I think it’s best if you go home.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and your heart seemed to stutter in your chest. You leaned your head against the cold glass and closed your eyes, the car quiet except for the jazz music on the radio. Neither of you spoke until Steve stopped in front of your building.

“Drink a bottle of water and take a couple of Tylenol,” he said, leaning over you to push open the passenger door, his scent making your head spin. He didn’t even look at you.

You stepped wordlessly out of the car, the heavy door creaking loudly as you closed it. Steve pulled back onto the street without so much as a glance back, the engine revving and the tires squealing.

Your heart hurt as you watched him drive away. You dug your keys out of your purse, swung around, and tried to unlock the door, though your shaking hands made it difficult. A loud noise echoed off the wall, making you jump and squeak, spinning around so quickly you lost your balance and stumbled back against the door. A black motorcycle flew by, heading the same direction as Steve.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “Asshole.”

Another tenant opened the door and pushed past you, so you grabbed the edge of the door and slipped inside. You raced up the stairs, your stomach churning. You sent up a silent prayer that you wouldn’t puke in the hallway, that you’d at least make it to your apartment. You frantically unlocked the door, slamming it closed behind you, and ran through the apartment, falling to your knees in front of the toilet just in time.

You must have fallen asleep - or passed out - because you woke up curled in the fetal position on the bathroom floor, a wadded up towel under your head. You were stiff, sore, and your head was pounding. You sat up slowly, another wave of nausea washing over you. You waited for it to pass before pushing yourself to your feet, mumbling curse words under your breath each time the room started to spin. 

You dug through the medicine cabinet over the sink, grabbed the bottle of Tylenol, and slowly made your way to the kitchen. You took a bottle of water from the fridge and swallowed two of the tiny white pills, grimacing at the feel of them sliding down your raw throat. By the time you made it to your room, the nausea was creeping back. You shucked off your clothes, dropped to your bed, pulled the pillow over your head, and prayed that Nat would stay at Clint’s tonight so you could get some sleep. The last thing you needed was your nosy roommate interrupting your sleep to interrogate you. And if the look on her face when you left the bar was any indication, that was exactly what she planned to do.

You fell into a restless sleep, plagued with dreams of chasing Professor Rogers through a dark forest, repeatedly losing him to a giant red dragon.


	3. Make-Up Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dating your professor isn’t easy, in fact, it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but the make-up sex is worth it.

You woke up with the taste of stale beer and regret on your tongue. You rolled to your back, groaning as the room spun around you, your head pounding so hard you thought it might explode. You dragged in a deep breath and slowly blew it out.

“I am never drinking again,” you mumbled to yourself.

You grabbed your phone off the end table where you’d dropped it. There were no messages from Steve, though there were a couple from your friends; one from Nat telling you she was staying with Clint and one from Bucky asking how you were. Your finger hovered over Steve’s name for a second, but instead of calling or texting him, you dragged yourself out of bed and through the apartment to the bathroom. Forty-five minutes later, you’d showered, brushed your teeth, and had some toast and a cup of coffee.

It wasn’t until you were digging through your purse trying to find your car keys that you remembered your car was still parked at the bar and Nat had your keys. Not to be deterred, you grabbed your phone and ordered an Uber.

You thanked the driver, a sweet older lady who’d chatted about her favorite TV shows during the drive, stepped out of the car, your head tipped back, the sun hot against your face. It was abnormally warm, especially after the last couple of days of cool autumn weather. You were grateful for the little bit of warmth. You pushed a hand through your hair, opened the door to the building, and made your way slowly up the back stairs. You took a deep breath and blew it out before knocking on the door.

Several minutes passed, leading you to think he wasn’t home or worse, that he wasn’t alone. Your heart was in your throat when it finally opened and Steve stood in front of you, his hair sleep tousled, his t-shirt wrinkled, and the top button of his jeans unbuttoned as if he’d just yanked them on.

“Y/N?” he murmured. “I was going to call you when I woke up.”

“Saved you the trouble,” you smiled. “I wanted to apologize -”

“No,” Steve cut you off. “You have nothing to apologize for. I would have reacted the exact same way if I’d had to watch your ex putting his hands all over you all night. I didn’t think about how much it would bother you. I’m sorry.” He took your hand and dragged you inside, slamming the door closed behind you. “I’m sorry you had to see that. But there’s something I need you to understand, Y/N, you are the only woman I want. Only you. Do you understand me?”

You threw your arms around Steve’s neck, your body flush against his, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I understand,” you whispered.

Steve’s mouth slanted over yours, cutting off anything else you might have said. His hands were on your cheeks, holding you close.

“I am sorry,” you mumbled.

“Me, too,” he whispered.

Steve pushed you back against the door, one hand sliding beneath the lightweight sweater you were wearing and up your side to cup your breast. He pushed his knee between your legs, the fingers of his other hand twisted in your hair, tipping your head back, his lips roaming over your neck.

“Professor Rogers,” you moaned, grabbing his shirt and pulling him tight against you. You rubbed your hand over the front of his jeans, drawing a groan from him.

Steve hurriedly unbuttoned your jeans, his hand slipping into your underwear, caressing you slowly, carefully, until you were moaning and grinding against his exploring fingers. He eased his middle finger inside of you, his thumb circling your clit.

A feral growl rumbled out of his chest. “Touch me, Y/N,” he snarled.

You opened his pants and took him in your hand, stroking him slowly, drawing a thick moan from him. He pushed at your jeans and underwear, shoving them down your legs. You kicked off your shoes and your jeans, then you yanked the t-shirt over your head and tossed it to the floor, followed by your bra. 

Steve pulled off his shirt and was working on his pants when you stopped him. You were impatient, you wanted him, needed him, so you pushed his hands away and dragged him back to you, your leg wrapping around the back of his thigh as you pulled him in to kiss you, his jeans down just enough to free his throbbing length.

He lifted you, his hands under your thighs, and held you against the wall. He lowered you onto his thick cock, both of you moaning as his filled you. He moved, slowly at first, his hips tipping up to press into you, then he was pulling out of you almost all the way before thrusting back into you, deep and hard, his hips now moving in a quick staccato.

You threw your head back, slamming it into the wall, the orgasm building deep in the pit of your stomach. You slid a hand between your bodies, easily finding and rubbing your clit, sending unbelievable heat barreling through you. He nipped at your bottom lip, sucking your tongue into his mouth when you opened yours, breathy gasps escaping him.

“Come on, doll,” he growled, his voice low and thick with lust. “Let me feel it.”

You let go with a deep moan, your nails digging into the back of Steve’s neck as the orgasm took you. Bright, multi-colored light exploded behind your closed eyes, your walls clenching around Steve. He thrust into you several more times, both of you clutching and clawing at each other as the pleasure consumed you.

As the sensations faded, Steve kept you pressed against the wall, his body still flush against yours, his mouth on yours, kissing you. When he eventually pulled away, he was grinning, a sweet, cocky grin that turned your insides to mush.

You pushed a hand through his hair and kissed the tip of his nose. Steve set you on your feet, though he kept his arms around you. He nuzzled his face against the side of your neck, making you giggle.

“Are we good?” he whispered.

“Yeah, we’re good,” you sighed.

* * *

“I thought I’d come home and find you passed out in bed for sure,” Nat laughed, dropping to the couch beside you. “Or puking your guts out in the bathroom. I’ve never seen you drink that much.”

“Yeah, I was a little drunk,” you muttered.

“But, no…” she continued as if you hadn’t said a word, “instead I come home to an empty house and you don’t answer your phone for hours, and when you do finally come home, on Sunday afternoon I might add, you’ve got a huge grin on your face, and you look like the cat that swallowed the canary.”

“Nat -”

“Don’t interrupt me, Y/N,” she scolded. “I want to know who you’re sleeping with, who the hell it is that is making you so damn happy. And what the hell upset you enough last night that you got drunk. Spill, now.”

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m not telling you, Nat.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed in irritation. “I’m your best friend, Y/N,” she snapped. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I know,” you mumbled. “I want to tell you, I just...give me some time, okay? It’s complicated.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “But I better be the first person you tell.”

“I promise,” you smiled. “You’ll be the first to know.” You glanced at the clock on the wall. “I have to go. That study group I’m tutoring is meeting in half an hour.” You pushed yourself to your feet, grabbed your backpack, and headed for the door. You were almost there when Nat called your name.

“Shit, I almost forgot to tell you!” She handed you a piece of paper with a hastily scribbled number on it. “Brock called.”

“What?”

“There was a message on the machine when I got home yesterday,” she explained. “He didn’t say anything, just ‘this is Brock, this is my number, call me’ and that was it.” She leaned closer, her lips pursed, one eyebrow raised. “Please tell me you aren’t going to call that asshole.”

“Of course I’m not going to call him,” you said. “I’m not an idiot.” You reached out and squeezed her arm. “I swear, I won’t.”

“Okay,” Nat nodded. “I’m holding you to that.”

You could understand Nat’s concern. Brock was bad news, he always had been, though that might have been part of his appeal, in the beginning anyway. But after dating him for a while, you’d come to realize that Brock’s dark and mysterious was more like dark and dangerous. After graduation, he’d gotten a job in Kansas and incorrectly assumed you would go with him. Instead, you’d ended the relationship, opting to stay in New York and pursue your master’s degree. He’d been angry and frustrated, promising you that the day would come when you would regret it. That had been almost two years ago and after not hearing from him in all that time, you’d figured he’d moved on. Apparently, you’d been wrong.

You parked your car in one of the student lots and hurried across the lawn to the library. The study group was scheduled to meet once a week for the entire semester. You’d been working as a tutor for the university for a couple of years in order to earn some extra cash. When you’d agreed to act as a tutor for this particular group of students, you’d had no idea they were from Professor Rogers’ freshman class. As soon as you found out, you’d talked to him about it before agreeing to tutor the group, with Steve’s encouragement. Once you were inside, you headed for the information desk. You recognized the student librarian behind the counter; she was in Professor Rogers class with you. It took you a second to place her, but as soon as she glanced up, the warm smile on her face turned to ice when she saw you. It was Carol Danvers, the student you’d noticed trying - and failing- to flirt with Professor Rogers a week or so earlier. She directed you to the third floor when you inquired as to their location of the study groups, her answer short and clipped. You ignored her, hurried up the stairs, and down the hall, finally finding them in a small room tucked in the back corner of the third floor. 

You slipped inside, your eyes on the floor, mumbling apologies for being late as you slid into an empty seat. You set your bag down and turned to the rest of the group, your eyes landing right on Professor Steve Rogers. 

You swallowed back a startled squeak and cleared your throat. “Professor Rogers, what a surprise,” you mumbled.

“Ms. Y/L/N, how kind of you to finally show up,” he smiled.

You narrowed your eyes and gave him a wry smile. “My apologies,” you said. “It won’t happen again.” You took a deep breath, your head tipped to one side. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you would be here.”

“I thought I’d come to the first couple of study sessions,” he shrugged. “While I’m sure you are more than capable, I just wanted to make sure everyone was on the right track. Pretend I’m not here.”

“Of course,” you nodded. “I appreciate any insight you might be able to give us.”

Two hours later, the group was getting restless, as were you. Pretending Professor Rogers wasn’t in the room proved to be incredibly difficult, especially with his eyes following your every move. Since the library was about to close and you’d had enough for one night, you wrapped things up, scheduled the next study session, and sent everyone on their way.

Once the room was empty, aside from you and Steve, you stood up and began stacking the books on the table and tossing the garbage in the trash receptacle, occasionally glancing at Steve out of the corner of your eye. Once you finished, you leaned against the table beside him.

“What are you really doing here, Professor Rogers?” you asked.

Steve chuckled a bemused expression on his face and rose to his feet, his hands on the table, caging you in. “I wanted to see you,” he murmured.

You stared at him, drinking him in. He was wearing a pair of worn jeans and a greenish-blue shirt, the color making his eyes seem even bluer than usual. He had no idea the effect he had on you, or anyone else for that matter, no idea how his smile lit up any room he was in, or how he drew admiring stares anywhere he went, and he was oblivious to just how many of his students had a crush on him. Most days you still couldn’t believe he was with you.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he smiled. He kissed you, a soft, easy kiss that demanded nothing but promised so much. When he pulled away, you whined quietly, wanting more.

“You are a fantastic tutor,” he said. “I think you deserve to be rewarded.”

Steve’s hands slipped beneath your shirt and up your sides, his lips moving over your neck, kissing and nipping at the lines of your throat. His thumbs brushed across your nipples, over the lace bra covering your breasts, your back arching, pushing them into his hands. His lips closed on the spot where your neck met your shoulder, biting and sucking, marking you. He popped open the button on your jeans, his hand easing past the waistband, his fingers sliding through your damp folds, teasing you. You were squirming and moaning, even as Steve pulled away and pushed your jeans down.

“Steve,” you gasped. “Someone might see us.”

He cut off your protests with a kiss before leaning you against the edge of the table, your shirt pushed up beneath your breasts, his hand on your back, holding you as he pressed opened-mouthed kisses all over your body. You were tingling everywhere, heat flooding you. Steve dropped to his knees in front of you, his lips warm against your stomach. He pulled off first one shoe then the other and tossed them aside. He hooked his fingers in the belt loops of your jeans and slowly pulled them down, kissing your bare legs as he went.

He looked up at you and smirked, his blue eyes dark with lust. He pulled one of your legs of his shoulder, nuzzling his nose into the curls at the apex of your thighs, groaning deep in the back of his throat. His tongue flicked out and he licked you, circling your clit so slowly it made your thighs tremble uncontrollably. His hands slid up the back of your thighs to cup your ass, holding you tight as he slipped his tongue deep inside you, rolling over and through your slick folds, fucking into you at a maddening pace, his beard burning deliciously on your inner thighs. A loud gasp left you when his middle finger slid in alongside his tongue, twisting and pressing against the tiny nub of nerves that sent shots of electricity screaming through your body.

The tightly wound coil deep in the pit of your stomach was about to snap and you knew you were close. You twisted your fingers in Steve’s hair, holding him close, your hips coming off the table to meet his mouth, cursing as the orgasm rushed through you, every nerve in your body on fire with intense pleasure.

Steve worked you through the orgasm, holding you in place so you wouldn’t collapse, only pushing himself to his feet when the trembling in your body finally subsided. He caught your lips in his and kissed you, his lips still wet with your slick.

You hurried to release him from the confines of his jeans, pushing them down just enough so you could take him in your hand and stroke him. You lifted your hips and guided him to your entrance, moaning as he slid inside of you. He braced his hand on the table beside you, his hips pumping slowly.

Steve nuzzled the side of your neck, moaning as you grabbed his ass, urging him to move. He tangled his fingers in your hair, tipping your head back, kissing your neck. He thrust into you over and over, harder and deeper, hitting your sweet spot with every tilt of his hips. His body tensed, his hand tightening in your hair as he came, gasping your name.

You held Steve tight as he continued moving, his cock slowly softening inside you. He pushed your shirt up over your breasts, dropped his head to take your breast in his mouth, and sucked the nipple through the lacy fabric of your bra. He slipped his hand between your bodies, massaging your clit until you came with a desperate moan.

Steve glanced at the door, then he helped you to your feet and back into your clothes, before pulling you into a warm hug. He smiled down at you and smoothed your hair back away from your face.

“We should probably go, huh?” he said.

“Probably,” you nodded.

“Come back to my place?” he asked.

“Of course,” you laughed. “I’ll meet you there.”

He kissed you one last time before slipping out the door. You quickly shoved your things back into your backpack, then you stopped to catch your breath. Professor Rogers was going to be the death of you.

* * *

You were half-asleep, wrapped in Steve’s arms with him snoring softly in your ear when your phone vibrated several times. You sleepily opened the text message, your phone tumbling from your hand when you saw what was on the screen.

Tears leaked from your eyes, your shaking hands covering your mouth, holding back the sobs threatening to escape. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the phone lying on the bed beside you, the blurry picture of Steve with his head between your legs, your head thrown back in ecstasy, staring accusingly up at you, almost as if it was mocking you.

You swallowed around the lump in your throat and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Steve, honey, wake up,” you murmured. “I need to show you something.”


	4. Laying Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Professor Rogers deal with the consequences of someone knowing about your affair.

You stood between Steve’s kitchen and his living room, twisting your hands nervously in front of you, unsure what to do with yourself. Steve sat on the couch a few feet away from you, his head resting against the back of the couch, his eyes closed. He hadn’t said anything since you’d woken him up to show him the photos on your phone, he’d just paced in circles around the apartment, his fists clenched at his side until he’d finally dropped to the couch with a dejected sigh. 

“Come here,” he said, holding his hand out to you.

You crossed the room and let Steve take your hand, pulling you down beside him, his arms around you, his lips pressed to your temple.

“Are you sure you don’t recognize the number?” he asked quietly.

“Positive,” you said. “What do you think they want?”

“Who knows,” he shrugged. “Not anything good, I’m sure. It’s almost like they want us to know that they know, hold it over us. Maybe it gives them some kind of sick thrill.”

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled, the tears threatening to fall again.

“What are you sorry for, doll?” Steve murmured. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I just...I lose my mind when I’m around you and I can’t think straight.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “This is my fault. I never should have put you in this position. I should have waited, walked away, left you alone -”

“Is that what you want?” You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer; they were streaming down your face, falling on his shirt.

“Shit, no,” Steve grumbled. “That’s the last thing I want. I want all of this to be easy. I want to be able to tell the world how I feel about you, tell the world that we’re together.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes and kissed the corner of your mouth. “God, I’m an idiot. If I wasn’t so selfish, maybe none of this would have happened.”

You shook your head, clinging to him. “It doesn’t matter now. None of that matters. What matters is what we do from here on out.” You blew out a shaky breath. “What are we going to do?”

Steve released you and rose to his feet, resuming his previous pacing of the room. “Maybe we should lay low for a while,” he replied. “Keep everything professional until we figure out who is behind all of this. We shouldn’t be alone together or do anything that looks even a little questionable.”

You nodded, your heart in your throat and an indescribable pain radiating through your chest. Steve knelt in front of you and rubbed your arms.

“I hate it, doll. I absolutely hate it,” he said gently. “But I don’t think we have any choice. I could lose my job, my tenure, and you could lose everything you’ve worked for since high school.”

“Of course,” you sighed. You reluctantly pushed away from Steve, easing past him to grab your coat from the back of the chair, along with your backpack. If that was how it had to be, you might as well start immediately. You pulled your coat on, the stupid tears still streaming down your face. You couldn’t look at Steve as you dug your keys out of your backpack, afraid to look his way because you would just turn into a sobbing mess if you did.

“Hey,” Steve murmured, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping your head back so you had no choice but to look at him. “This doesn’t change anything. Nothing is going to change how I feel about you.” He wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“How do you feel about me?” you whispered.

He pressed a kiss to the center of your forehead, the tip of your nose, your cheek, his lips sliding down your jaw to your mouth. “I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

You gasped, Steve’s mouth slanting over yours, his arms sliding around your waist. He pushed you backward until you were leaning against the refrigerator, your hands fisted in his shirt, the kiss morphing into a desperate attempt to hold on to what you thought you might lose.

When you finally broke apart, you were breathing heavily, your heart pounding, and your head spinning.

“I should go,” you sighed, though you didn’t move.

“Stay,” Steve said. “Just a little longer.”

You shook your head, a protest on your lips, determined to make a clean break. But instead you found yourself throwing your arms around his neck, your body pressed against his. Something snapped inside of Steve, inside of both of you, because he lifted you, your legs sliding around his waist as he stumbled through the tiny apartment back to his bedroom.

He laid you across his bed, pulled off his clothes, and then he stripped you of yours. Once you were naked beneath him, he took your breast in his mouth, pulling the nipple between his teeth, biting hard enough to make you gasp. You tangled your fingers in his hair and tugged, drawing a groan from the professor. He used his knee to push open your legs, his hips nestled between them, pushing forward to press into you, his cock just grazing your aching pussy.

You pulled Steve’s mouth to yours, your tongue dancing across his lips. You wanted to kiss him, _needed_ to kiss him, before it was all taken away. He returned the kiss, his own feelings evident in the way he held you and the quiet groans falling from his lips.

He eased two fingers inside of you, scissoring you open, pumping them gently, his tongue sliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm as his fingers. He slipped his hand beneath your ass, lifting you off the bed, three fingers deep inside you, the palm of his hand pressed against your clit, the sudden change in position enough to make you come, hard.

Steve worked you through the orgasm. his mouth on yours, his kisses deep, sweet, and constant. You’d barely started to come down when he entered you, the sensation of being filled by him making you moan shamelessly. He rose up on his knees, his hands on your hips, pulling you toward him as he thrust into you. He started slow, moving at a slow, easy pace, easing almost completely out of you before sliding back into you, hitting that one spot perfectly every time, making you writhe and squirm beneath him as he pushed you toward another orgasm.

You clutched the blankets on the bed, pulling them loose as you moved with Steve, the connection between you driving you out of your mind with pleasure. He picked up the pace and slammed into you until you were screaming his name, another orgasm consuming you. He held you tight against him as his body tensed, your walls clenching around him as he came. He rolled to his side, keeping you in his arms, his cock softening, his lips against your throat, his beard tickling your neck. 

You sighed and snuggled closer, wishing the rest of the world would disappear so it could be just the two of you forever. 

“I should go,” you whispered after a few minutes. “We’re gonna lay low, right? No sense delaying the inevitable.”

“I know,” he sighed. He pressed a kiss to your lips and released you.

You dragged the blanket off the bed as you rose, wrapping it around yourself. You leaned over Steve and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. He cupped your face and caressed your cheek with his thumb, his cerulean blue eyes staring into yours.

“I love you, too, Professor Rogers,” you whispered.

***************

The week dragged by, the cold fall weather matching your mood, dreary and depressed. You told Natasha you had the flu and spent the next few days cooped up in your room, skipping class to wallow in your misery and binge-watch _Friends_. You exchanged a few texts with Steve, though you had decided it would be best if those were kept to a minimum as well. Every time you talked to him your heart felt like it was breaking all over again.

You kept expecting another text, a cryptic call, or something from whoever had taken the picture, but there was nothing. Worrying about what was - or wasn’t - going to happen was tearing you apart. You couldn’t sleep, you were barely eating, and you didn’t want to leave your room.

Friday was a typical October day, cold and crisp, cold enough that you needed a jacket, as well as a pair of gloves and a hat. You only left your room because you had a test, in Steve’s class nonetheless. You dreaded it. You weren’t sure how you could be in the classroom, breathing the same air, so close to him, but forced to keep your distance. You felt his eyes on you when you entered the room, watching you as you eased down the aisle and slipped into one of the chairs in the top row of the classroom, as far from him as possible. You itched to touch him, to kiss him, to throw yourself into his arms, push him into his office, and make love to him on that ragged couch against the back wall. Instead, you kept your eyes down, for the most part, and busied yourself pulling your things from your backpack.

Steve sighed heavily, turned his back, and began writing on the board. Luckily, Bucky chose that moment to slip into the desk beside you.

“Well, well, she lives,” he grinned. “Nat said you had the flu. You feeling better?”

“A little,” you shrugged. “I didn’t want to miss the test.”

After a few minutes, Steve turned around, leaned against his desk, crossed his arms, and called the class to order. You couldn’t help but notice that he looked exhausted, his eyes red-rimmed, his long hair tousled as if he’d just crawled out of bed after a restless night. Yet somehow, he still looked just as gorgeous as ever.

“Alright folks, I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you,” he said, a hint of a smile playing across his lips. “The good news is Dr. Erskine will be back on Monday, so you won’t have to look at my ugly mug anymore.”

His self-deprecating comment earned him quite a few laughs and he smiled ruefully. He cleared his throat and continued.

“Now for the bad news,” Steve smiled. “You still have to take the test.”

The class groaned, almost in unison, this time making Steve laugh. He grabbed a stack of papers from the edge of the desk and quickly passed them around, his eyes once more locking with yours. You pushed a hand through your hair, grabbed your pencil, and forced yourself to concentrate on the test, resisting the urge to launch yourself out of your seat and into his arms.

By the time you finished your test, there were only a few students left in the room. You slowly shoved your things in your bag and rose to your feet. You set your test on Steve’s desk and turned to go.

“Excuse me, Miss Y/L/N?” Steve said.

“Yes, Professor?” you murmured, turning back around.

“I was wondering if you had scheduled another study session with my freshman group?” he asked.

“I’m meeting with them Monday night,” you nodded. “The test is Wednesday, right?”

“Yes,” he replied, staring at the floor for a few seconds. When he finally looked up, he had a hopeful expression on his face. “Look, I wanted to ask you something. I was...uh, wondering if you...do you have a minute?” He pushed himself to his feet and pointed at his office door.

You took a step back, shocked. You glanced over your shoulder and lowered your voice. “I...I thought we were laying low.”

“It’s not...that’s not what I’m asking,” he sighed. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. I have a...friend...Sharon. I told her about us -”

“Wait, you what?” you interrupted. “You told her about us?”

“She’s an FBI agent,” he explained. “And she thinks she can help us.” He checked his watch. “I called her, asked her to stop by. She should be here any minute.”

“Do you really think she can help?” you whispered.

“It’s worth a shot,” Steve said. “Will you stay, just for a few minutes, and talk to her?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

Just then, the door at the top of the stairs burst open and a pretty blonde entered, bounced down the stairs, a huge smile on her face. She walked right up to Steve, pushed up on her toes, and pressed a kiss to his cheek before turning to you.

“Hi, I’m Sharon,” she said, holding her hand out. “You must be Y/N.”

“I am,” you nodded, shaking her proffered hand.

“I understand you’ve got a bit of a problem,” Sharon grinned. “What do you say we find the asshole who did this?”

Steve shook his head and chuckled. “Come on, let’s talk in my office.”

*******************

“She’s nice,” you murmured after Sharon left.

The three of you had spent the better part of an hour talking. Sharon now had the photo on her phone, as well as a list of people from both you and Steve who might have been taken it; your list consisting of Brock and a former roommate you’d had a falling out with, while Steve’s was a bit longer, including several former students and to your surprise, Peggy. You’d hesitantly included Carol Danvers - after all, she’d been in the library and obviously didn’t like you - though you were relatively confident it wasn’t her. Once Sharon had the photo and her list of names, she’d promised to find out who it was. You couldn’t help but believe her.

“Sharon’s good people,” Steve agreed.

“How do you know her?” you asked.

Steve sighed at glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. He shifted uncomfortably and pushed a hand through his hair. “We dated for a while,” he finally said. “The break-up was amicable. We just kind of...grew apart.”

You ignored the queasy twist of jealousy in your stomach and reminded yourself that Steve had a life before you’d come along. As much as it bothered you, you had to accept it and let it go. Steve loved you and you clung to that thought like a drowning woman, praying that all of this would work itself out.

“So, Erskine’s back,” he said quietly. “You’re not my student anymore.” He stepped around the side of his desk and leaned against it, staring down at you.

Hope burst in your chest. “What does that mean for us?” you whispered.

He leaned over you, his hands on the arms of the chair, caging you in. His nose brushed against yours, his lips a breath away from your own. “I can’t live without you, doll,” he murmured. “I’m going to the university president.”

“Steve, you don’t have to do that -”

He cut you off, his mouth covering yours, the kiss making you ache with need. When he broke off the kiss, you could hardly breathe.

“I’m going to beg Stark not to fire me, explain to him that I fell in love with a student. I’ll tell him everything - how we met before school started, how you’re only in my class because of Erskine leaving, whatever it takes.”

“And then what?”

“Then I pray that he lets me keep my job and that my reputation isn’t destroyed.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and stared at the floor.

“I don’t want you to do that,” you said firmly, pushing yourself to your feet and standing in front of him. “Wait and see if Sharon can do something, if she can help us before you do something as drastic as going to Stark.”

Steve’s sighed, his hands falling to your waist. He pulled you close, so you were standing between his legs, his warmth seeping into you. He brushed a kiss across your lips and rested his forehead against yours.

“I miss you, doll,” he said.

“I miss you, too.” You rested your forehead against his chest, your arms around him. “I hate this. But, please Steve, don’t do anything drastic. Not yet. Promise me you’ll wait.”

Steve closed his eyes and nodded. “I promise.”

“I better go,” you mumbled.

Five minutes later you were crossing the student parking lot, already missing the feel of Steve’s arms around you. You couldn’t wait for this to be over.

You stopped dead in your tracks as soon as you saw your car, leaning oddly to one side as if it was off-balance. You hurriedly looked it over, taking in the two flat tires, one of them with a large screwdriver protruding from the one on the front driver’s side. A folded piece of paper fluttered in the breeze, held to the windshield by the wipers. You reached out, plucked it free, and took a deep breath before opening it.

_Stay away from Steve. Or next time it will be more than your tires that I slash._


	5. Fine Isn't Good Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can’t do anything more than wait for Sharon to find out the identity of the mysterious stalker.

“Drink this,” Sharon said as she pushed the hot mug into your hands.

You took a sip, wincing as the alcohol in the cup burned your throat. You blew out a shaky breath and closed your eyes. As soon as you’d pulled the cryptic note off of your car, you’d turned and sprinted back across the commons, fear clutching wildly at your heart, panic driving you forward. You’d burst through Steve’s office door, tears streaming down your face, babbling incoherently, and waving the note fisted in your hand in his face. It had taken him several minutes to calm you down before he’d been able to get out of you what was wrong. He’d immediately called Sharon, who was back in less than fifteen minutes.

“You good?” Sharon asked.

You nodded, even though your hands were shaking and you felt like you might throw up. You couldn’t look away from the note laying on the coffee table in front of Steve’s couch.

Sharon picked it up and folded it in half, then in half again. She slipped it in her pocket, then she reached over and patted you on the leg. “I promise you I am going to do everything in my power to figure out who did this, Y/N. No one deserves to be tormented like this. Okay?”

“O-okay,” you stammered. You took another drink from the cup, the alcohol going down a little bit easier. You watched as Steve walked Sharon to the door, the two of them whispering quietly. 

He closed his office door behind her and came to sit beside you on the couch, taking your hand and holding it loosely in his, his shoulder touching yours.

“You’re coming back to my place tonight,” he stated calmly. “I don’t want you to go home alone.”

“B-but...we’re…” You swallowed around the lump rising in your throat. “W...we’re laying low.”

“Fuck it,” Steve snarled.

“I’ll call Nat or...or I don’t know, Bucky…” you murmured. “They can come and get me. I won’t be alone.”

“Y/N…”

“No, Steve,” you shook your head. “It’s okay. I swear, I'm fine.”

“You’re lying,” he whispered. "Fine isn't good enough." He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed his lips to your temple.

You hugged him, your face pressed to his chest, inhaling deeply, his scent overwhelming you. You held the tears at bay, barely, before leaning up to kiss him. You yanked your phone out of your back pocket and quickly texted Nat.

_Can you come and get me? I’m at school. I’ll explain when you get here._

Her reply was immediate and exactly what you’d been hoping to hear. You exchanged a few more texts with her before tucking it beneath your leg.

“She’ll be here in ten minutes,” you said.

Steve’s grip on you tightened, his hand cupping your cheek, his lips brushing across yours. The two of you sat in silence, not speaking, just holding each other, exchanging soft kisses until your phone vibrated.

You picked it up and for just a second, you froze, afraid to open it. You shook it off and opened the text message.

 _I’m here, student lot, as close as I could get_.

“She’s here,” you murmured.

“I’ll walk you out,” Steve said. He held your hand and led you through the building and outside. He didn’t release you until you were standing on the top of the stairs that led into the History building, then he followed down the stairs and across the commons to where Natasha was parked at the curb.

You were in the car for all of about ten seconds before Nat started on you.

“What the fuck is going on?” she demanded.

“Just get me home and I’ll explain everything, I promise.”

* * *

“Alright, start talking,” Natasha ordered. She set a cup of coffee down in front of you and slipped into the seat across from you at the kitchen table.

You took a deep, shuddering breath and picked up your cup, fumbling with it, hot coffee splashing over the side and onto your hand. You flinched, a quiet groan of despair leaving you. You laid your head on your arms, tears sliding down your face, dripping on the table. You choked back the sobs rising in your chest and sucked in shallow breaths in a desperate attempt to keep yourself under control.

Natasha reached over and squeezed your hand. “Jesus, Y/N, what the hell is going on?” she murmured.

You shook your head, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a coherent sentence. Your brain kept turning over everything that had happened, trying to make sense of it, make it better somehow. You prayed all of this was just a horrible nightmare that you would wake up from at any minute, shaking, sweating, and panicked because of the feelings it had elicited.

“Y/N, talk to me,” Nat insisted.

It was time to be honest, to tell someone in your life the truth. And maybe, the easiest thing to do was to just start with the simplest thing.

“I’m in love with Professor Rogers.”

“Well, yeah, half the women on campus are -”

“No, Nat, you don’t understand,” you interrupted her. “I’m in love with him and he’s in love with me.”

Nat’s mouth snapped shut and for the first time since you’d met her, she had nothing to say.

You took another deep breath and started talking. It took two cups of coffee and half a bag of your favorite cookies for you to tell your roommate and best friend everything - how you met Steve, how you ended up in his class and then how you fell in love with him, the photo, the slashed tires, everything. When you were done, you and Nat just stared at each other; you out of things to say and her unsure what to say. She held your hand, squeezing it every now and then as she attempted to process what you had said.

“Okay then,” she finally murmured. “What...what are you going to do?”

You shrugged and shook your head. “I wish I knew. Right now, I’m just...waiting.” You scrubbed a hand over your face and closed your eyes. “Waiting for Sharon to figure out who it is, waiting to see if Steve and I can be together, just waiting. What else can I do?”

“You look exhausted,” Nat said. “You should get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, pushing yourself to your feet. “Not that I think I’ll be able to sleep, but I can at least lie in bed and stare at the ceiling.”

Nat stood up as well, pulled you into her arms and hugged you tight. “I’m glad you told me. I’ll kick anybody’s ass that comes near you, I swear. And if you need someone to talk to, you can always come to me.”

“Thank you, Nat,” you replied, returning her hug. “That means a lot to me.”

You said your good nights and went into your room. It was early, barely nine, but you were exhausted, the weight of the world sitting on your shoulders, pushing you down and suffocating you. You wanted to sleep and forget about everything. You grabbed some sweats and a t-shirt from the dresser, then you reached for the curtain to pull it closed. The grumble of a motorcycle engine revving startled you, making you jump, the clothes in your hand tumbling to the floor. You peeked around the edge of the curtain and out the window.

Parked against the curb across the street from your apartment was that same black motorcycle you’d seen on two different occasions. Whoever was on it was unrecognizable, dressed in black leather with a black helmet. He, or she, was staring up at your window. When they caught sight of you, they raised a hand and waved before revving the engine one more time and speeding off.


	6. Whatever It Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is willing to do whatever it takes to save his relationship with you.

He was exhausted, too tired to be up this early, but that didn’t stop the sun from shining, lighting up the bedroom despite the dark drapes covering the window. He threw the blankets off and slid to the side of the bed, still exhausted despite sleeping - or trying to sleep - for the last nine hours. 

Steve rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, moaning as his fingers brushed the tight muscles. He’d slept like shit and he was feeling it, especially after last night’s workout. He grabbed his phone and scrolled through his notifications. He had a missed call and a text message from Y/N. She hadn’t let a voicemail, so he opened the text message.

**_Black motorcycle outside of my apartment. I couldn’t tell who it was, but they waved at me when they saw me looking out the window._ **

“Shit,” he muttered, anger and fear coursing through his body. Apparently, he’d slept well enough to miss this. He cursed himself for not hearing his phone.

_Shit, sorry, I just woke up. Are you okay?_

The three dots blinked far longer than he cared for, making him itch with impatience. It seemed to take forever before her message appeared.

**_No. I’m scared shitless._ **

_Are you alone? Do you want me to come and get you?_

**_Nat’s here. Bucky and Clint came over, too. I texted Sharon last night, let her know what’s going on. I haven’t heard back from her yet._ **

_Glad to hear it. Look, if you need me, just say the word and I’ll be there._

**_I know. Thank you. I love you_ ** _._

_I love you, too._

He waited a couple of minutes, but there weren’t any additional messages. He tossed his phone on the bed and made his way to the bathroom.

God, he hated this. The woman he loved needed him and he couldn’t even be there for her. Not for the first time, he wished that she wasn’t his student, or that he’d met her at a different time in his life, or that he’d done things differently, chosen a different path. He’d been impulsive, jumped in without thinking, and fallen hard. By the time he’d discovered she was a student at the university, and that she was in the class he’d offered to teach for Erskine, it was too late. He was in love with her, in too deep to turn back. All of this was his fault.

He stepped into the shower, the water as hot as he could stand it, the warmth easing his aching muscles. In an effort to forget the shitty turn his life had taken, he’d gone to the gym with Sam and worked out until he felt like he might drop dead. Only then had he come home and fallen into bed, alone.

Steve tilted his head back, groaning as his neck muscles protested and the water splashed against his closed his eyes. His mind drifted to the first time he’d seen her. 

_He ducked into the small coffee shop not far from the university when it started to rain. Not your typical summer sprinkle, but a goddamn deluge that flooded the streets within minutes. Of course, this was the day he decided to be environmentally friendly and leave the Mustang at home, choosing instead to ride his bike. There hadn’t even been a cloud in the sky when he’d decided to walk to a nearby deli for lunch._

_The coffee shop was empty; no surprise as business didn’t usually pick up until school started and then it would be so crowded you could barely get through the door. There was a woman standing behind the counter, wearing a black apron, watching the television on the wall in the corner, a smile on her face._

_She turned as soon as the door swung shut behind him, the smile widening into one of those “I-work-in-customer-service-so-I-have-to-be-here-and-pretend-I-like-it” kind of smiles. Steve couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath._

_“Hi,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “C-can I help you?”_

_“Can I get a cup of coffee while I wait for the rain to stop?” he asked, pointing over his shoulder at the downpour._

_She leaned to the side and peered out the window. “Wow, it’s really coming down. Um, sure. Just coffee? How do you take it?”_

_“Just coffee, black, no cream, no sugar.”_

_She grabbed a cup and filled it to the brin, snapping the lid on and wiping the sides before handing it to him. When he held out the cash in his hand, she waved it away._

_“On the house,” she smiled, a genuine smile that lit up her whole face._

_His heart thudded loudly in his chest at the sight, his breath catching in his throat. He propped a hip against the counter and gave her his best smile._

_“You always give free coffee to strangers?” he asked._

_“Only the attractive ones,” she murmured, the smile accompanied by a flirty wink._

_He laughed and shook his head. He was completely aware of the effect he had on others - he did teach a lot of classes filled with young women, and men, who were not exactly subtle about their feelings - but over the years he’d learned to ignore it. The stares, the giggling, the blatant innuendos, even the occasional inappropriate social media post that managed to make its way into his life despite his choice not to use that particular medium, he’d dealt with all of them over the years. He’d learned to close himself off, only let a few people in, people like Sam and Sharon, even Peggy. Something about this girl made him want to break down those walls with a goddamn sledgehammer._

_“Well, then, doll, keep ‘em coming,” he smirked._

Steve had walked out the door with her phone number and a dinner date. He’d wanted to call her that night, or first thing the next morning, but he’d forced himself to wait, finally succumbing to the desperate need to talk to her less than twelve hours after they’d met.

Once the water turned tepid, Steve shut off the shower, quickly dried off, and made his way back to his bedroom. He threw himself on the bed, his arm thrown over his eyes, wondering if he could fall back to sleep. It was doubtful, his head spinning with thoughts of Y/N.

He didn’t regret anything that had happened between them, least of all falling in love with her. He never would. He was going to make this work, no matter what. He wasn’t about to let the best thing that had ever happened to him slip away. He could almost hear his mother’s voice in his head, asking him if he was really willing to do whatever it took and if so, what exactly was he waiting for? The problem was, he didn’t know what he was waiting for. It was time to make a move, good or bad.

“Fuck it,” Steve muttered. He snatched his phone off the bed where he’d dropped it, holding it, staring at it. If he did this, it could change his life forever, _would_ change it forever. He swiped his finger across the phone and dialed.

“Whatever it takes,” he mumbled as the phone started ringing.

* * *

“Steve, hi,” Pepper greeted him, stretching up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “How have you been?”

“Good,” he smiled, squeezing Pepper’s hand. “It’s good to see you. How’s the old man?”

“Grumpy,” Pepper laughed. “He’s not happy about being in on Saturday. I hope whatever you need to see him about isn’t going to piss him off?”

“It might,” Steve sighed.

“Great,” she mumbled, straightening her shoulders. “Give me five minutes, then I’ll come and get you.” She disappeared through a heavy oak door into an inner office, her “hey Tony” drifting over her shoulder as it swung shut.

Steve sank into one of the plush chairs against the wall in the outer office. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a photo on Pepper’s desk, a picture of her, Tony, and their daughter Morgan. He smiled to himself. He still remembered the day they’d gotten married.

He had known Tony and Pepper a long time, even before he’d worked at the university. Tony had been somewhat of a surrogate father to him after his own father had passed away, looking out for him, helping him through college and even helping him secure his first job. When he’d gone into teaching, Tony had been ecstatic and had done everything in his power to get Steve at the university where he was president. Steve hadn’t been about to turn down the opportunity.

Of course, the special favors had ended there. Tony was a hard ass when it came to running his university; nobody got away with anything under his watch, including Steve. Most of the staff was terrified of getting on his bad side. And if there was anything that would get you on his bad side, it was any kind of impropriety. 

Steve pushed a hand through his hair, his knee bouncing, his brain creating all kinds of wacky scenarios involving this meeting. Most of which involved him getting fired.

The door opened and Pepper peered around it. “He’ll see you now,” she said quietly.

Tony sat behind his desk, a faint smile on his face. Once Steve was seated and Pepper had closed the door, Tony sat back in his chair, tossed his glasses on top of the desk, and crossed his arms.

“Pepper said I might not like this,” he said.

“You won’t,” Steve said.

“Let’s hear it, then,” Tony muttered. 

Steve took a deep breath. He wasn’t even sure how to start, where to start, what to say.

“I’m in love with a student.”

It was as if the words jumped out of his mouth on their own volition, anxious to expose themselves. His mouth snapped shut after he said it and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

“Go on,” Tony said. He was surprisingly calm.

Steve started slow, stumbling over his own words at first, the thoughts he was attempting to put into words not making sense, even to himself. He forced himself to relax, to take his time. He didn’t want to fuck this up by not being able to express himself properly. He sat back in the chair and started from the beginning, the first time he’d met Y/N. By the time he finished, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“So, now that Erskine’s back, she’s no longer in your class?” Tony asked, swiveling in his chair.

“No, come this Monday, she won’t be my student,” Steve said.

“And when did you start dating?”

“About two months before school started.” He shifted uneasily.

“Grad student?” Tony murmured.

“Yes,” Steve nodded.

Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. “You had no idea she was a student at the university when you asked her out?”

“No,” he sighed. “I never asked. We’d been dating for weeks before she mentioned she was a student. Stupid, I know.”

“You’re damn right it was stupid,” Tony snapped, pushing himself to his feet. “You live and work in a college town, Steve. The majority of the population either works at the university or goes to the university. You didn’t ask because you didn’t want to know.”

Steve nodded weakly. Tony was right. He hadn’t asked Y/N if she was a student because he’d been afraid the answer would be yes, and since he’d fallen for her the minute he had laid eyes on her, he wouldn’t have been able to deal with that. It had seemed better to pretend he didn’t know - or care - than ask her the truth.

Tony stopped pacing behind his desk and leaned over it, his palms flat on the surface. “I need some time to think things over. This is a complicated situation, Steve, and not just because you’re a professor and she’s a student. You’re a close friend of my family and I got you this job, I pushed the board to hire you. You’ve been one of the best professors this university has ever had and this...this could be a huge scandal that we just don’t need. That being said, I do appreciate you coming to me before it blew up in our faces.” He dropped back into his chair, put his glasses on, and grabbed his tablet. “I’ll call you tomorrow, or Monday, at the latest. Until then, just, I don’t know, try not to do anything stupid.” He looked at Steve over the top of his glasses. “That will be all, Steven.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve muttered, launching himself from the chair and out the door, shouting goodbye to Pepper over his shoulder as he sprinted to the stairs.

Once he hit the bottom of the stairs, three floors down, he leaned against the wall, his hands on his knees, panting as he tried to catch his breath. He pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly dialed from memory, a smile spreading across his face when it was answered.

* * *

This was the definition of stupid and the last thing Tony had said to him was to not do anything stupid. Except he needed to see her, talk to her, tell her what he’d done. She needed to know. It would affect her life as much as his.

The door to the apartment building opened and Y/N’s roommate, Natasha stepped out, followed seconds later by her. As soon as he saw them, he stepped away from the car and started up the sidewalk. He’d only gone halfway when Y/N threw herself into his arms and buried her face against his chest. Natasha nodded at him, watching as he hurriedly led her to his car and ushered her inside. Nat didn’t go inside until they were both in the car and he was driving away.

She reached across the seat and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I thought we were laying low,” she murmured. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Steve raised her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. “I had to see you,” he said. 

They drove the rest of the way to his apartment in comfortable silence, her hand in his, soft jazz playing on the radio.

He waited until they were safely in his apartment with the curtains drawn, a glass of wine in her hand, and a beer in his, only then was he ready to talk to her about his meeting with Tony. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close, his lips pressed against her temple.

“We need to talk,” he said. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” she asked nervously.

“I had a meeting with Tony today,” he said. “Tony Stark.”

“Tony Stark? The university president? Why?”

“I asked to meet with him,” Steve said. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, then he sat forward, his elbows on the knees, his beer held loosely in his hand, staring across the room at the TV. “I told him about us.”

She set her wine glass on the table and wrapped her arms around herself, fear dancing in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“I had to do something. This person, whoever it is, this person holding those photos over our heads, using them as some kind of blackmail, they have too much power over us. I needed to take some of that power away from them. So, I went to Tony and I told him everything.”

She slipped off the couch and kneeled in front of him, between his legs, her hands resting lightly on his arms. “What happened?” she whispered.

“Not much really,” he replied. “It was anti-climatic, to say the least. He said he needed some time to think things over. He said he’d call me tomorrow or Monday. Until then, I’m not supposed to do anything stupid.”

“So, your idea of not doing anything stupid is to call me, pick me up at my place, and bring me back to yours?”

Steve set his beer on the table, cupped her face in his hands, and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I told you, I needed to see you.”

“What do you think Stark is going to do?” she murmured.

“I have no idea,” he sighed.

“This is all my fault,” she muttered.

“This is not your fault,” Steve said firmly. “This is on both of us. You can’t help who you’re attracted to or who you fall in love with. If I could go back in time to the day we met, I would still get your phone number and I would still ask you out. I would still fall in love with you. Because what we have, you and me, that’s not something everyone gets to have in their lives. The situation sucks, but we’re what’s important. I’d give up everything if it meant keeping you.”

Steve wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb, his other arm sliding around her waist. Her hands slid up his thighs, coming to rest on his hips. He lifted her and hugged her against his chest, his lips on her neck. She was murmuring, her fingers twisted in his hair, sweet words he wasn’t really hearing because he was consumed with touching every inch of her. Too many days had passed since he’d kissed her or touched her. She pressed herself against him with a sigh.

Steve slid his hand underneath her shirt, up her waist to her breast. His thumb brushed across her nipple, a light, gentle touch, bringing it to attention. He pulled her shirt off and dropped it to the floor, then he picked her up, his hands under her thighs, pulling her into his lap so she was straddling him. He mouthed her breasts through the thin fabric of her bra.

She unhooked her bra and let it fall between them. Steve growled low in the back of his throat as he took her breast in his mouth, sucking greedily. Her head fell back, decadent moans falling from his lips, making him ache with want. He snapped open her jeans and slid his fingers inside the front of her underwear, groaning when her slick covered his fingers.

She hurriedly unbuttoned the pale blue shirt he was wearing, the tips of her fingers dancing over his shoulders and arms, a low hum of appreciation coming from her as she pulled it off and tossed it to the floor.

Steve pushed her off of his lap to her feet then he tugged down her jeans and underwear, pressing wet kisses against her stomach as he removed them. He could hear her breath tearing in and out of her throat, impatience emanating from her as she kicked them off before quickly straddling him again. He wrapped his arms around her and laid her on the couch beneath him, his hips snug between her legs. His cock was hard and aching, straining against the zipper of his jeans as he ground against her. 

“Jesus, Steve,” she groaned, the tips of her fingers digging into his biceps, her nails biting into the muscle.

He pressed his forehead against hers, his fingers sliding through her slick folds, his thumb rubbing against her swollen clit. He eased two fingers into her pussy, pumping them slowly, filling her. She must have been wound tight because he felt the familiar clenching of her walls around his fingers, her hips coming off the couch to meet his hand, her head thrown back, gasping loudly.

“Fuck me,” she groaned.

“Mmm, just wait, doll,” Steve whispered in her ear, his fingers pumping madly, her hips bucking wilding against his hand as the orgasm worked its way through her. “It’s only going to get better.” His lips worked at her throat, licking and sucking a trail from her collarbone to her jaw.

He was desperate to take her, desperate to feel her coming undone around him with his cock buried deep inside of her. He dragged his fingers from her and fumbled at the button of his jeans.

She pushed his hand away and unbuttoned them, struggling to push them down despite him being trapped between her and the back of his small couch. She slid out from beneath him to the floor and kneeled beside the couch. She used both hands to remove the bothersome denim and his boxers. He laid back against the couch, legs spread, his eyes on her, watching her every move. She gazed up at him for just a second before leaning forward and placing a kiss to the inside of his thigh, kneading the muscles of his leg. She wrapped her hand around his hard shaft, stroking him as her tongue caressed his sensitive sac. He trembled at her touch, his fingers twisting in her hair as he cupped the back of her head and watched her take the head of his cock between her lips.

She grasped him at the base of his erection, wrapped her lips around him, sliding down his cock until her mouth met her fingers. Steve moaned her name, his hips rising off the couch, pushing himself further into her mouth. He ached, his cock so hard it was painful. He couldn’t wait any longer.

He grabbed her under the arms and dragged her onto the couch, laying her beneath him again. He kissed her, his tongue in her mouth, exploring every inch. He slipped his hands under her ass, lifting her so his cock brushed against her entrance. He pulled one of her legs around his waist and eased into her, his lips still roaming over her neck, her jaw, her lips. She opened her legs and grabbed his ass, pulling him into her until he was fully seated, filling her completely.

He moved, tight, careful thrusts, pulling out almost all the way before easing back in, her leg sliding up around his waist, her hips rising to meet every thrust. They were both gasping, their breath mingling, Steve pumping in and out of her, harder and faster, pushing her closer to orgasm with every hard thrust, barely holding himself back as she met every move, until her walls clenched around him and she was coming, hard.

Steve rocked into her, once, twice, and then he was coming himself, his body tensing, the pleasure consuming him. He collapsed on top of her, sprawled over her chest, his weight shifted to the side, his back against the couch. He cupped her cheek, his mouth slanting over hers, his hands roaming her body, relishing the feeling of having her in his arms again. They broke apart, his chin resting on top of her head, their fingers intertwined.

“Can I ask you something?” she murmured.

“Of course.”

“What now?” she asked. “If Mr. Stark decides to do something drastic, what are you going to do?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Steve shrugged. “If and when I have to.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll do whatever I have to do. But I will not walk away from you. I can’t.”

She pulled back and looked up at him. “So, you didn’t do this because you’re being stupid, you did it because you love me and can’t live without me?”

There was a playful tone to her voice, but he could sense her underlying need for his honesty, could see the worry in her eyes. He pulled her close, wrapping himself around her.

“I love you and I can’t live without you, doll,” he whispered. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.” He kissed the top of her head. “Whatever it takes.”


	7. No More Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You learn something about Professor Rogers that could potentially change your relationship.

You wanted to stay in bed all day with Steve’s body wrapped around yours, his warmth surrounding you, seeping into you, but the insistent chirping of your phone’s alarm drew you from sleep. You reached for it, knocking it from the bedside table to the floor.

“What is that?” Steve grumbled.

“My alarm,” you sighed. “I have to work today.”

Steve’s grip on you tightened, his nose nuzzling the back of your neck. “Stay here, in bed, with me.”

As amazing as that had the potential to be, you had to go into work. Even with AAA, having your car towed and new tires put on it had depleted your meager savings, rent was due in two weeks, and you needed to go to the grocery store. All of which meant you had to drag yourself out of bed and go to work.

You threw the covers off, earning yourself a groan from Steve. He tried to hold onto you, but you squirmed out of his grip and hurried to the bathroom. By the time you stepped out of the shower and toweled off, the smell of coffee was wafting through the apartment. When you emerged from the bedroom, Steve was standing at the counter, dressed, with a cup in his hand. You stopped in front of him and pressed a kiss to his lips, scratching your fingers through his beard when he leaned his head into your hand.

“Sharon called,” he said.

“Did she have any news?” you asked.

“Not yet. She said she’s supposed to talk to Carol and Peggy later today. She said she’ll call if she finds out anything.”

You sighed and shook your head. “I feel like it’s never going to be over.”

Steve pulled you into his arms and hugged you close. “I know, doll,” he murmured. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “We just have to hope that Sharon will figure it out.”

“I love you,” you murmured.

“I know,” he smirked and kissed you again. “Let’s get you to work.”

* * *

Sundays at the coffee shop were always dead; the professors and other staff didn’t want to come near the university on their day off, and the students were most likely lying in bed, hungover, which thinned the regular crowd down to, well, nothing. You sat behind the counter, your psych book open, scribbling notes in one of your notebooks. You were doing your damnedest not to look at your watch, or your phone, or the clock on the far wall, it just made the time creep by even slower. You took a sip from the coffee you’d made yourself and flipped to the next page in your book.

The bell over the door pulled you from your studies. You pushed your book aside and rose to your feet, smoothing your apron down over your thighs. When you looked up, Professor Peggy Carter stood in front of you.

“Professor Carter,” you smiled. “How can I help you?”

“You’re dating Steve, right?” she asked in her lilting British accent, forgoing any greeting or pleasantries.

Her question caught you off-guard. “I...I’m not sure, um, what you’re t-talking about?”

“Please, Miss…” she glanced at the nametag on your apron, “Miss Y/N, don’t play coy with me. I know that you and Steve are...together. See, Steven isn’t very good at hiding things, and when I saw you together the other night, I could see how he feels about you written all over his face.”

You had no response, your eyes dropping to the floor, shoulders drooping. You cleared your throat several times before murmuring ‘yes’. You sucked in a deep breath, raised your head, and looked Peggy in the eye.

“Why are you asking?” you inquired.

Peggy smiled widely. “I just...I wonder how well you actually know Steve? I mean, he’s a bit of an enigma wrapped in mystery.”

“I’m not sure what you mean?” She wasn’t making any sense.

“Well, for instance, did you know that Steve’s a bit of a player?”

You didn’t like the smile on her face or the wicked gleam in her eye. “That doesn’t sound like him at all,” you replied, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter behind you, hoping that Peggy didn’t see the way your hands were shaking.

“Maybe I should have said  _ was _ a bit of a player,” Peggy laughed. “Before he met me he was a player, dating just about any woman that crossed his path. I was the first woman he wanted to settle down with.”

“What do you mean, settle down?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you, love? Steve and I were engaged to be married.”

Bile rose in the back of your throat and you gripped the counter behind you so tight your fingers ached.

“Engaged?” you whispered.

“For almost a year,” she stated matter-of-factly as if she hadn’t just shattered your illusions about Steve into a million pieces. Her lips drew together, her eyes blank, her face emotionless. “He broke things off, said he wasn’t ready to get married.” She flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder and shrugged. “And Sharon? She came after me, the rebound girlfriend. She broke up with him when he couldn’t commit.” She tapped her chin with her finger. “I guess that makes you the rebound r _ ebound _ girlfriend. And we all know those never last.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t form a coherent sentence to save your life. You were sure you looked like an idiot staring at Peggy with nothing to say, but she had caught you completely off-guard. You opened your mouth only to snap it closed again.

“I should be going,” Peggy murmured, looking at her watch. “I’m genuinely sorry to spring this on you, but I thought you should know what you’re getting yourself into.” She turned around and left without even a glance back over her shoulder.

You spent the next hour wandering around the coffee shop, your mind not on your work, unable to concentrate on anything, your thoughts consumed with what Peggy had told you. You were grateful when Wanda arrived to relieve you. 

You hitched your bag up on your shoulder and followed Nat from the shop to her car. You’d called Steve to pick you up, but he and Sam were meeting with Erskine now that he was back in town, so he hadn’t been able to get away long enough to pick you up. So, Nat had agreed to come and get you. Of course, she’d immediately known something was bothering you, so the quizzing began the minute your ass hit the seat.

“Are you shitting me?” she muttered once you’d filled her in on what Peggy had said. “First of all, she has no right to stick her nose in where it doesn’t belong. Second, why the hell didn’t Steve tell you he was engaged? To another professor nonetheless. Jesus, it’s sounds like Sharon was the only one with a brain in that whole situation. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to talk to Steve,” you sighed. “I’m meeting him at his office tomorrow.”

“Not today?” Nat grumbled.

“He’s expecting to be tied up in the meeting with Erskine for a few more hours.”

“Are you pissed at him?” Nat asked.

“I’m trying not to be,” you replied. “I want to talk to him, find out his side of things. Peggy sounded very...bitter, you know. How do I know if she’s even telling the truth?”

“You think she’s lying?” Nat’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “What if...what if she’s the person on the black motorcycle?”

“Sharon’s going to talk to her, maybe she’ll be able to find out,” you mumbled. “God, my head is spinning.” You pinched the bridge of your nose and squeezed your eyes closed. “I just want this day to be over.”

“I know what will help,” Nat grinned. “Let’s order a pizza and have a bunch of beers.”

“That sounds fantastic,” you laughed.

* * *

A whole pizza and God knows how many beers later, you were feeling a little bit better. You still hadn’t talked to Steve, but you’d exchanged a few more text messages, and he knew that you wanted to talk to him and that it was important. He seemed open to discussing anything with you, promising that he would be an open book.

Around seven, there was a knock on the door, surprising both you and Nat. Your roommate glared at you when you rose to your feet and pointed at the couch until you sat down. 

“I’ll get it,” she said firmly.

You lowered yourself to the couch with a sigh. You thought she was being overly cautious, but arguing with Nat was pointless; she was an expert in krav maga and she would kick your ass if you crossed her.

You heard Nat talking to someone, then the door slammed closed. A few seconds later she stepped into the room with a huge bouquet of red roses.

“Wow,” you giggled. “Clint piss you off again?”

“These are for you,” Nat said, setting them on the table in front of you.

“Whoa,” you murmured. “That bouquet is, um...huge.”

“I thought you didn’t like roses,” Nat said.

“They’re not my favorite,” you shrugged. “I prefer lilies or even sunflowers. I’ve never been a huge fan of roses.”

“Does Steve know that?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I’m not sure we’ve ever talked about it. Is there a card?”

Nat looked through the bouquet until she found a card. She pulled it free and tossed it to you.

You ripped it open, expecting to see Steve’s familiar handwriting, your mouth falling open when you realized the flowers were not from the man you loved.

_ Missing you more than I thought possible. Can’t wait to see you. - Brock _

The card fell from your hand, drifting slowly to the floor.

* * *

“Um, excuse me? What do you think you’re doing?” Nat asked. She looked like she might kick your ass.

“I’m going to Steve’s,” you muttered. “I need to see him.” You shoved a change of clothes into your backpack and zipped it shut.

Nat glanced down at herself, clad in shorts and a thin t-shirt. “I’ll drive you. Give me five minutes -”

“I’m driving myself.”

“What about the weirdo on the motorcycle?” Nat grumbled. “And Brock? Jesus, Y/N, you shouldn’t even leave the house. You said he wasn’t going to be home until late, so why don’t you wait, call him when he’s home, and have him come and get you.”

“I’ll be fine,” you sighed. “I’ll drive straight to Steve’s, wait for him in his apartment. I have a key.”

“Why this sudden urge to see him?”

“I’m...it’s crazy, Nat, but...with everything going on, I just need him. I need to talk to him about what Peggy said, tell him about Brock. Please try to understand.”

“I do,” Nat said. “But, please, I’m begging you, be careful.”

“I will,” you promised. You hugged her before leaving the apartment and heading for your car.

You did as you’d promised, driving straight to Steve’s and going directly inside. You were a nervous wreck the entire time, convinced that you were probably being followed, nearly jumping out of your skin when a yellow motorcycle pulled up beside you at a stoplight and a car backfired while you were unlocking the apartment building’s door. You didn’t relax until you were in his apartment with the door locked behind you and the blinds pulled.

You grabbed his sweatshirt off the back of the kitchen chair and yanked it on, then you stretched out on the couch, pulling the soft, blue blanket off the back of it and covering your legs, only the dim light from a small lamp on the side table illuminating the room. 

You were half-asleep when you heard the apartment door close followed by Steve’s voice saying your name.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he replied, crossing the room to sit beside you, his hand resting lightly on your leg. He leaned over you and kissed your forehead. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you,” you said, pulling the sweatshirt tighter around yourself.

Steve inched closer. “Why? What’s wrong?”

You decided to tell him about Brock first. You quickly explained your relationship with Brock, the breakup, the reasons behind it, and his sudden reappearance in your life. You’d barely started to tell him about the roses when he interrupted you.

“You don’t like roses,” he murmured.

“You’re right, I don’t,” you smiled. “You knew that?”

“I did,” he nodded. “So...Brock called you  _ and _ sent you flowers. What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure,” you said. “I know I don’t want to talk to him or see him. He’s a part of my life I thought I put behind me. But, I want to be completely transparent with you. As I’m hoping you’ll be with me.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Peggy came to see me at work today.”

“What?” He pushed a hand through his hair, his blue eyes flashing in irritation. “What did she want?”

“She thought I should know that you were quite the player before she came along -”

“Y/N, we all have a history,” he interrupted you. “Including me.”

“I know,” you nodded. “I am completely aware of that. I don’t fault you for your past relationships. What does bother me is that you never told me you and Peggy were engaged.”

It was as if all the air was sucked out of the room. Steve froze, his jaw tensing, his hands clamping down on yours, holding them so tightly they ached.

“Goddamn her,” he growled. “She can’t let go.” He pushed himself to his feet and went into the kitchen. He yanked open the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, downing it in just a few swallows. He dropped the bottle in the sink then he stood at the counter, gripping the edge of it, staring out the small window over the sink.

“I thought I loved her,” he said, still staring out the window, not turning to look at you. “I thought I could spend the rest of my life with her. But, after a while, I started to realize she wasn’t right for me and honestly, I wasn’t right for her. We were on two different paths in our lives and those paths were never going to merge into one. I realized it far sooner than Peg did. I’m not sure if she even realizes it now. She’s had a hard time letting go. She’s jealous of anyone that comes into my life, anyone I get close to. Shit, she used to get jealous of Sam, for God’s sake.”

Steve turned, crossed the room in several long strides, and sat beside you, taking your cold hands in his. “You have to understand, I never loved her like I love you. You own me, doll, heart and soul, every part of me. I had no idea what love was until I met you. There isn’t anyone or anything that matters more to me than you. I’m willing to give up everything for you if I have to. I can’t say that about anyone else. I want you and only you. You’ve changed my world, made me whole in a way I never thought possible. I won’t let Peggy or anyone else take that away from me.” He laid his head on the couch next to yours and wrapped his arms around your waist.

You could hear the quiet desperation in his voice and see the intense need to figure all of this out in the tense line of his muscles. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his head against your chest, your fingers running through his thick hair.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Steve held you, your legs intertwined, bodies pressed together, his strong hands kneading the tense muscles in your back while his lips drifted over your neck and jaw.

You were half asleep, drifting in that netherworld between waking and sleeping, in that place where you couldn’t be sure what was happening was real or not. You felt soft lips against your neck and his hands roaming over your body. You tightened your hold on Steve, fingers tangled in his hair.

“No more secrets,” you whispered.

“No more secrets,” he agreed, dipping his head in a slight nod, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling your face to his and kissing you. “I promise.”

“Me too,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his.

There were no more words after that, you didn’t need them, not when the two of you had your own way of communicating. You slid your hand into the front of Steve’s jeans, massaging his soft cock, your teeth sinking into his neck. You brushed your tongue over it, nibbling along his jaw to his ear, your hand wrapping around his half-hard shaft. You stroked it slowly, your mouth moving constantly over his neck, biting and sucking.

It was slow and easy, hands and mouths everywhere, clothes coming off with little effort. You sighed when Steve slipped his hand between your bodies, his fingers brushing over your clit, pinching it gently between his fingers, making your hips jerk the tiniest bit. He eased a finger inside you, pumping it carefully in and out, a smile teasing the corners of his lips at the little gasps and moans of pleasure he elicited from you.

Steve sat up, his back pressed against the couch, and easily lifted you. He turned you around so you were straddling his thighs and facing away from him. He rained kisses over your back as he palmed your breast, his thumb rubbing over the nipple as he entered you from behind, rocking his hips slowly until he was fully seated inside you. You moved together, his hips snapping up to meet yours as you pushed yourself down on him, moaning his name. He pinched and tugged at your nipple, two fingers on your clit, rubbing it as he fucked you from behind, your bodies sex-sweat slick, your nipples hard, aching nubs under his fingers as he held you tight, moving faster and faster until you were trembling beneath his sure hands and gasping his name as you came. He thrust roughly into you as your walls clenched around him, his body tensing as his own orgasm roared through him.

The two of you laid together until the sweat on your skin had dried and the chill in the air raised goosebumps on your skin. When you began to shiver from the cold, Steve grabbed the blanket that had fallen to the floor and pulled it over you. He hugged you close, nuzzling your neck.

“I love you, Professor Rogers,” you murmured again.

“I love you, too,” he sighed.


	8. Decision Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time for Tony Stark to give Professor Rogers his decision about not only Steve’s future at the university but yours as well.

“Hey,” Steve looked up, smiling as she came through his office door. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the building,” she shrugged.

“That’s right. How was your class with Dr. Erskine?”

“Boring,” she laughed. “He’s definitely not as interesting as you. I don’t like his class at all.”

Steve sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, chuckling under his breath. “Is that really the reason you don’t like the class? He’s boring?”

“Maybe there’s another reason,” she grinned.

“And what might that be?” Steve smirked.

Y/N kicked the office door closed and strode purposefully across the room, leaning over his desk to press a lingering kiss to his lips.

“He’s not as attractive as you,” she murmured.

Steve laughed, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her into his lap, holding her tight. He knew he should ask her to leave, that she shouldn’t be there, but she was the drug and he was the addict. Every minute away from her was too much.

“Sharon called,” he murmured. “She talked to both Peggy and Brock -”

“She talked to Brock?”

Steve nodded. “She did. He admits he sent you the flowers, called you and left a message for you, but that’s it. Claims he knows nothing about any black motorcycle. Same with Peggy, she said she doesn’t know anything. Sharon is looking into their alibis.”

“Have you heard from Stark yet?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he murmured, dragging his lips down the length of her jaw, his hands sliding over her body, caressing and massaging her. He caught her lips in his, kissing her, his fingers drifting up her leg and under her skirt until he was cupping her, his palm pressed against her heated core.

“Mmm, Professor Rogers,” she moaned.

“Shhh,” he murmured. He eased his hand past the waistband of her underwear, his long middle finger dipping into her soft folds of skin. Y/N’s legs fell open and her eyes closed as he explored her, a satisfied hum coming from her, drawing a low chuckle from Steve. He dragged his lips up her neck and along her jaw until his mouth was pressed against her ear.

“Do you know how much I miss touching you, kissing you, being with you?” he whispered. Two of his fingers slipped into her pussy, pumping slowly. “I love the little sounds you make when I touch you.” His tongue flicked out and licked slowly along her ear. “I love the way you taste, the way you feel, the way you smell. I can’t get enough of you.” His fingers moved faster, thrusting harder and deeper. He kissed her neck, alternately biting, licking and sucking. “I want you to come for me, Y/N.”

She writhed in ecstasy under Steve’s touch, mewling uncontrollably, the back of her hand pressed to her mouth, desperately trying to contain her gasps of pleasure. He could tell when the orgasm hit her, her body tensing as she turned and pressed her face against his chest, a scream coming from her, the sound muffled against his shirt.

Steve kissed her, holding her, working her through the orgasm. Once she started to come down, the death grip she had on his shirt finally relaxing, he let his fingers slide out of her, still kissing her neck or her lips.

He could have held her all day, content to keep her in his arms. The amount of love he felt for her overwhelmed him; he’d never felt like this before, never loved someone the way he loved her. She buried her face in the space between his arm and his side, her arms wrapped tightly around him.

His office phone rang, the sound shrill and jarring in the quiet room. Steve pressed a kiss to her temple, then he reached over her and grabbed the phone.

“Professor Rogers,” he said. He listened intently, nodding his head every few seconds. “Of course, Pepper, right away. Yes, yes, I think I can find Y/N and have her join us. I’ll see you in an hour.”

Steve hung up the phone. “Mr. Stark would like to see us in an hour.”

“Us?” she murmured.

“Yes, us,” he nodded. “He specifically requested we both come to his office.”

“That can’t be good.” 

“No, probably not,” Steve sighed. “I guess we’ll find out in an hour.”

* * *

Steve held the door open and ushered Y/N into Pepper’s office. She rose to her feet, a smile on her face as she came out from behind her desk to shake Y/N’s hand and hug Steve.

“He’s waiting for you,” she said, pointing at his office door.

“Has he said anything?” Steve asked.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” Pepper shook her head. “He wants to talk to you. If I tell you what he’s decided, I’ll be stealing his thunder.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head. “Will you let him know we’re here?”

“Give me just a minute,” she replied.

Pepper disappeared into Tony’s office. Steve reached for Y/N’s hand, squeezing it gently.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, but she looked like a deer caught in headlights, her eyes wide, skin pale, and her hands were like ice. He thought about kissing her, but Pepper opened Tony’s office door and gestured them inside.

Introductions were made and then they took a seat, Steve leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, fidgeting nervously.

“You guys haven’t made my life easy,” Tony sighed as he took a seat behind his desk. “Or Pepper’s.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I spent the whole weekend deciding what I should do.”

“And?” Steve murmured.

“I’m not firing you,” Tony replied. “But, I am putting you on probation until further notice. Your classes will be randomly monitored by your colleagues for the rest of the semester. I’m not doubting your ability to teach, but the board insisted on it. As for you young lady -”

“Yes, sir?”

“I understand that you are in Dr. Erskine’s class?”

“I am, yes,” Y/N answered nervously, her hands twisting in her lap.

“Good,” Tony nodded. “We’ll keep it that way. As for your relationship with Professor Rogers, I’m not going to forbid it. That is not my place. You’re a grown woman, just a few years younger than Steve. Who am I to stand in the way of young love? And to be honest with you, it’s not against the rules, it’s only suggested that it’s inappropriate. There is no specific rule against fraternization between professors and students, though I’m sure that will change after the next board meeting. All I ask is that you do your best to keep your relationship low key. Can you do that?”

“I think so,” Steve grinned. 

Tony shook his head, a faint smile on his face. “You’re lucky I like you, Steven,” he laughed. “Just do me a favor and don’t run around campus making a spectacle of yourselves, okay?”

Y/N put her hand on Steve’s arm and nodded. “We won’t,” she smiled. “I promise.”

“Now you, I believe,” Tony said. “It’s been a long weekend and I owe Pepper dinner, so get out of my office.”

Steve shook Tony’s hand, his face aching from the huge smile on it. He took Y/N’s hand and led her out of the office, waving goodbye to Pepper over his shoulder.

Once they were out of the building and on their way back to his office, her hand held loosely in his, Steve breathed a little easier. One major obstacle was out of the way, now, they just had to figure out who was following Y/N so that Sharon could scare the shit out of them and get them to back off. He wanted to celebrate, to spend some time with Y/N, just the two of them. It had been a miserable couple of weeks and he needed a few days to recover from the craziness. He waited until they were in his classroom, the door closed firmly behind them, before he told her what was on his mind.

“I think we need a weekend away,” he said.

She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, smirking. “Oh really? A whole weekend? Just you and me?”

He stepped closer, right up in her face, his hands on the wall on either side of her head, trapping her in place. He ducked his head, his lips grazing hers as he spoke.

“Just you and me,” he whispered. “Sam has this great little beach house he got from his parents. I’m sure I can get him to let us use it for the weekend. What do you say?”

“I think that sounds amazing,” she sighed, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, her fingers tangled in his hair. She pulled him down, her lips brushing against his, a low hum in the back of her throat.

“Friday?” he murmured, refusing to kiss her until he got his answer.

“Definitely,” she replied. “Now stop talking and kiss me.”

****************


	9. A Much Needed Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Steve get away for a long weekend.

The week crept by, each day longer than the last, despite your attempts to do everything you could to keep your mind off the upcoming weekend. You hadn’t seen much of Steve since the two of you had been in Mr. Stark’s office, both of you had been busy with midterms coming up. You’d met with your study group three times, their nerves ratcheting up as they struggled to get ready for their upcoming tests, you’d worked every day, and you had a paper due in Dr. Erskine’s class. Not to mention the constant worry about the mysterious figure on the motorcycle, something that had you constantly on edge. By the time Friday rolled around, you were more than ready to get away.

Steve had a late meeting on Friday, so he gave you the key so you could head to the beach house early. It took you far longer than you thought it would to find it as it was well off the beaten path, in a secluded location with its own private beach, miles from anywhere and anyone. It was late afternoon when you finally pulled into the driveway and parked beside the patio. You climbed out of the car, your face turned up to the sun. You’d been worried it would be cold, but unseasonably warm weather had moved in, almost as if Mother Nature knew you had a trip to the beach planned and decided to give you a break. It had been in the upper eighties all week and it was expected to continue through the weekend. You couldn’t have been happier that the crazy coastal weather had decided to cooperate for once.

Once you were inside, you set your suitcase by the front door and headed straight for the kitchen. You emptied the bags of groceries you’d brought and poured yourself a glass of wine before slipping out the back door to sit on the porch. You leaned your head back against the chaise lounge and closed your eyes.

“Hey, doll,” Steve whispered in your ear.

You jumped, a startled squeak leaving you, completely unaware that you had fallen asleep. You hadn’t expected to find Steve standing beside you in basketball shorts and a black t-shirt, an adorable smile on his face. 

“You scared the crap out of me,” you scolded.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head then he maneuvered you so he could sit behind you, your back resting against his chest, his hands holding yours.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m hungry and tired,” you sighed. “It’s been a long week.”

“Good thing I was planning on making you dinner, huh?” he murmured.

“You want to write my paper for Erskine’s class, too?” you giggled.

“Um, probably not a good idea,” Steve laughed. “How is Erskine’s class?”

“Dr. Erskine is the single most boring human I have ever met in my life,” you replied. “There isn’t enough coffee in the world to keep me awake during his class.”

Steve put his hands on your shoulders, his thumbs digging into the tense muscles in your neck. 

“He’s a tenured professor,” Steve murmured. “He’s brilliant.”

“He’s boring,” you mumbled. You dropped your head, relaxing as Steve’s fingers continuing working at the knots where your shoulders met your neck.

“Look, I can’t exactly write your paper, but I could help you with it. Kind of like private lessons.” Steve’s voice dropped an octave, hinting at something more. He stopped rubbing the back of your neck, his hand sliding around your throat and tipping your head back so he could kiss you, a bare brush of his lips over yours, his beard scratching at your chin.

“Professor Rogers,” you breathed.

“Very private lessons,” Steve growled. He wrapped an arm around your waist and clumsily stumbled to his feet, almost falling to the ground with you in tow. You giggled and kicked your feet but he had a tight grip on you as carried you inside through the kitchen and down the hall to the bedroom. He dropped you on the bed and fell over you, his mouth slanted over yours.

You melted into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his long hair, holding him close, immediately lost in the sensations he elicited from you. He buried his face against your neck, his fingers twisted in the collar of your sweater, yanking it to the side so could suck at the edge of your collarbone.

You swung your leg over his, put your hands on his chest, pushed him to his back, and knelt between his knees, your hands on his thighs. He watched you closely as you pushed his shirt up and leaned over to kiss his stomach, right below his belly button. He sucked in a sharp breath, his stomach rising and falling, the soft hairs that trailed into the waistband of his shorts tickling your cheek. You rested your forehead on his stomach, sprawled across his legs, hooked your thumbs in his shorts and pulled them down several inches. You kissed the newly exposed skin, rubbing your nose against him, inhaling his familiar scent. Another couple of inches and more kisses had Steve breathing heavily, his cock hardening against the side of your neck as you explored his torso with your mouth.

Steve’s legs fell open and his head fell back onto the pillow, a quiet sigh leaving him as you pulled his shorts and boxer briefs down past his hips and over his ass. You ran your tongue up the length of his hard, thick cock, his hips jerking at your touch.

You sucked the tip of his hard shaft into your mouth and swirled your tongue around the head, your fingers tight around the base. It wasn’t long before Steve was moaning and bucking his hips, begging for more.

You released him with a wet pop, climbed off the bed, and stripped off your clothes, Steve’s eyes following you. He sat up, pulled off his t-shirt, and kicked the rest of his clothes off before leaning against the headboard. You straddled him, sinking slowly onto his cock, taking him in an inch at a time, giving yourself a chance to adjust. Once he was fully seated, you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him tight as you rocked forward. He eased his hand between your bodies, his fingers brushing your clit, teasing it as he thrust into you.

He braced his feet against the mattress, thrusting up into you, his cock buried in your pussy. He wrapped his arms around you, his hands sliding up your back to rest on your shoulders, pulling you down onto him, panting and gasping, pumping his hips at a maddening pace.

You grabbed the headboard just above his head with one hand, the fingers on your other hand digging into his back muscles, your head thrown back, moaning, your clit rubbing deliciously against his taut abs and his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. You felt it coming, felt the orgasm building deep inside of you, your walls clenching around Steve as you came, your nails digging long red welts into his back as you rode it out.

His hands tightened on your shoulders, holding you tight as his own orgasm rocketed through him, his face buried between your breasts. He cupped your cheeks in his hand, pulling you into an insane, mind-blowing, sensual kiss, his other hand sliding down your body to caress your curves, his hips rocking, pushing you right back up to the edge. He kept moving, flexing his hips until you came again, a squeal of surprise leaving you.

Steve laughed, gathered you in his arms, and pulled you down onto the bed, nuzzling your neck, his beard tickling you. 

“Consider that private lesson number one,” he murmured.

You punched him lightly on the shoulder, a muffled giggle escaping you. “You’re a riot, Professor Rogers,” you muttered, the sarcasm dripping from your words. 

“That I am,” he smirked. “But you still love me.”

“Yes, I do.” You kissed the corner of his mouth, then you buried your face against his chest, and closed your eyes. “Wake me up when it’s time to eat.”

“You got it,” he chuckled.

* * *

It wasn’t Steve that woke you up, but the unbelievable smell permeating the house. You pulled on some clothes and wandered through the small house to the kitchen. Steve was at the counter, back in his shorts and t-shirt, humming to himself as he chopped vegetables. As soon as he saw you, he dropped the knife on to the cutting board and swooped you into his arms, his lips on your neck, his beard tickling you. You couldn’t hold back the girlish giggle that left you. Steve had a way of making you feel happy and carefree, a feeling you wanted to grab onto and never let go.

“How long was I asleep?” you murmured.

“About an hour,” he replied. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” you nodded.

Steve pressed a kiss to the top of your head, led you to one of the stools at the counter, and poured you a glass of wine before returning to chopping vegetables. You propped your chin on your hand and sipped your wine as you watched him cook and listened to him talk. He could have been talking to you about the most mundane of topics and you wouldn’t have cared, you were happy to just listen to him. He seemed so comfortable in the kitchen, chopping the vegetables, making the pasta and alfredo sauce. You offered your help, but he refused.

Once dinner was ready and on plates in front of you, he sat down and brushed a kiss across your lips before digging into his food. The two of you ate in comfortable silence and then you washed the dishes together.

“This is nice,” you whispered as you dried the plates.

“Doing dishes is nice?” Steve chuckled.

“No, this is nice,” you gestured between the two of you. “Being all domestic and stuff.”

Steve laughed and kissed the corner of your mouth. “Hmm, what stuff would that be?”

“Are you teasing me, Professor?”

“Definitely,” he grinned. “But I like it, too. The domestic stuff, I mean. Actually all the stuff.” He let the water out of the sink and rinsed it clean, then he plucked the towel from your hands. “Come on, let’s go for a walk on the beach.”

It was in the sixties, even at almost nine in the evening, so you didn’t bother with a jacket, merely slipping on your flip-flops and taking Steve’s hand. You let him lead you out the back door and down a short path to the beach, stopping a few feet from the water to stare at the moon’s reflection.

Steve stood behind you, his hands on your waist, his body flush against yours, walking you toward the water in an awkward stuttering step that had you giggling. You loved playful Steve, he made you laugh. It was quite the change from the serious professor persona he wore at the university.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled as he continued pushing you toward the water. You dug your feet in and pushed back.

“It’s warm out here, I thought we’d go swimming,” he murmured.

“I’m sure that water isn’t warm,” you muttered. “I think you’re crazy.” No way you were getting in that water.

Steve’s hand slid over your ass, squeezing affectionately. God, his touch made your skin burn and your body ache with need. He turned you around and kissed you, a slow, sensual kiss that only increased your desire for him. You’d just reached up to wrap your arms around his neck when he took a step away from you.

“Maybe I am crazy,” he shrugged. He pulled his shirt over his head, dropped it to the ground, and started walking backward, his eyes on you as he pushed his shorts off. “Come on, doll, be crazy with me.” He crooked a finger at you, smiling that adorable smile of his, the one that made you feel like your insides were melting.

You took two steps closer, stopping a couple of feet short of him, gnawing nervously at your lower lip. You knew that water would be cold, but the prospect of going in there with Steve made your stomach knot with a crazy craving. The fact that he was standing in front of you naked didn’t help your resolve to stay out of the cold water. 

You eased a little closer and kicked off your flip flops, then you shrugged out of your shirt. Steve’s grin widened and then you were in his arms, kissing him again, his tongue slipping out to play lightly against your bottom lip. His hands were warm against your skin and you could feel a light sheen of sweat forming where they rested on your waist. The kiss deepened, the heat between you a living, breathing thing.

It was your turn to take a step back, out of Steve’s arms, and quickly unbuttoned your shorts. You pushed them off, followed by your thin cotton underwear. Once you were naked, Steve took your hand and pulled you into the water.

You hissed when the cold water hit your feet, but you continued walking, not stopping until you were waist deep, goosebumps pebbling your skin. You sucked in a deep breath, bracing yourself against the cold, laid back, and pushed off with your feet, the water rushing over you. You shivered, but you stayed put, closed your eyes, and let yourself float, the small waves rocking you gently.

You heard a soft splash, so you opened your eyes and watched Steve until he was beside you. He took your hand, intertwining your fingers, the two of you floating side by side. Steve kicked his feet, pulling you with him, giggling when your heads bumped together. 

The two of you floated for a while, comfortable enough with each other that you didn’t need to talk. You closed your eyes, completely relaxed, surprised you weren’t cold. You weren’t sure how long you’d been floating in the water when Steve wrapped his hands around your ankles and dragged you toward him. He pulled your legs around his waist, his hands on your hips, holding you loosely as you floated in the water. His fingers drifted lazily up and down your sides, barely brushing against your skin, his thumb grazing your breast on every downward swoop of his hands.

You moaned, your body tingling everywhere, every nerve ending alight with your need for Steve. He lifted you out of the water, his hands splayed across your back, your breasts pressed to his naked chest, his lips on your neck.

He held you effortlessly as he sucked dark purple marks into the skin beneath your jaw. You groaned, your legs tight around his waist, your fingers tangled in his long hair, lost in the feel of his lips on your skin. You squirmed in his grasp, moving against him, your aching pussy pressed against his tight abdominal muscles, murmuring in his ear how much you wanted him, how much you needed him. You could feel his erection brushing against the bottom of your ass, his desire for you obvious.

Steve groaned, his grip on you tightening, crushing you to his chest, his lips sliding along your jaw to your mouth. He caught your lips in his, his tongue sliding into your mouth, kissing you deeply. He shifted, sliding you down his body, his hard cock now trapped between your bodies, sliding along your folds, pulsing and twitching with need. You dropped your legs and let yourself float in front of him, one arm around his neck, the two of you still kissing as the cool water flowed around you. You took him in your hand, stroking him gently, cupping his balls in your hand before sliding it along his length.

Two of his fingers slid into you, crooking in a come here gesture that had you seeing stars and close to coming undone. You dug your nails into his shoulder, stroking him harder and faster as he thrust his fingers, his thumb circling your clit.

“Steve,” you gasped, grinding down on his fingers. You were right on the cusp of an orgasm, but you wanted him inside of you when you came.

He knew what you needed, what you wanted. He always knew. He lifted you, holding you by the hips and lowering you onto his cock just an inch at a time, allowing you to adjust to his substantial size. Impatient, you wrapped your legs around him and pushed yourself down his length, groaning when his pubic bone grazed your clit. He flexed his hips, his cock brushing against your sweet spot with every movement. He sucked at your pulse point, marking you, his teeth sinking into your neck, pain merging with the intense pleasure, the orgasm slamming into you. 

A starburst of light exploded behind your eyelids, waves of pleasure washing over you, obscene moans falling from your lips. Steve came only seconds after you as your walls tightened around him, milking his own orgasm from him. His head fell to your shoulder, his damp hair tickling your cheek as he slammed into you, again and again, emptying himself into you, both of you gasping and moaning as the intense sensations overwhelmed you.

Steve held you close when it was over, your body wrapped around his, the two of you enjoying the quiet of the secluded, moonlit beach, the water cooling your now overheated bodies.

“We should get back,” you whispered reluctantly. “It’s getting cold.” As if to prove your point, a shiver raced through you.

“And we’re getting all pruney,” Steve murmured. He kissed the tip of your nose and released you, turning toward shore and swimming away from you with clean, even strokes. 

You followed, though not as gracefully or with the same kind of power, but adequately enough to get you back to the beach. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he strode from the water, rivulets of water running down his back muscles and over his tight ass, moonlight glinting off the droplets. Jesus, he was a sight to behold.

Steve yanked his shorts back on, then he glanced at you over his shoulder, a smirk playing across his lips. “Stop staring and get over here,” he ordered, barely containing his laughter. He turned on his heel and started back to the house, his shirt in his hand. 

You snatched your clothes off the ground as you hurried after him, yelling at him to wait for you. You caught up with him halfway up the path, your shirt half on and your shorts on but not buttoned. You jumped on his back and let him carry you back to the house.

* * *

“I am not ready to leave,” you grumbled. “Let’s just stay here forever.”

Steve laughed and kissed your cheek before rising to his feet, coffee cup in hand. He’d gotten up early to go for a run, leaving you to sleep, so he was still in his running shorts, though he’d stripped off his shirt. Neither of you was in a hurry to leave; you’d both been procrastinating all morning. Unfortunately, you couldn’t put it off any longer. You had a two-hour drive back and you had to work late that afternoon. You needed to go.

The two of you finished cleaning up the beach house, leaving it in the same state in which you’d found it, and loaded your things in the car. You left before Steve, kissing him goodbye on the porch, clinging to him, wishing you could actually stay forever. When Steve extricated himself from your grip and led you to your car, you actually had tears in your eyes. He kissed you one more time, opened your car door and helped you inside.

You rolled down your windows and turned up the music, singing along, the wind blowing through your hair. You felt good, really good, better than you had in a long time. Now that your relationship with Steve was out in the open, for the most part anyway, your world finally seemed to be coming together. Even better, you hadn’t seen the stranger on the black motorcycle in almost two weeks, which had you breathing easier. Maybe whoever it was had moved on or found someone else to stalk, you didn’t really care, as long as whoever it was left you alone.

An hour into your trip back, the two cups of coffee you’d had before you left had run right through you, so you found the nearest rest area and pulled in, parking at a spot close to the building. You rolled up your windows and hurried inside, the alarm chirping as you armed it over your shoulder. You hated public restrooms, especially deserted ones in the middle of nowhere, but when you had to go, you had to go.

The sun had disappeared behind the clouds when you emerged from the bathroom, turning the bright morning dull and dingy. At least the weather had cooperated all weekend; if it was going to rain, now was the time to do it. 

Halfway down the sidewalk, almost to your car, you slowed to a stop, unease making your stomach knot and sweat to pool in the center of your back. You certainly weren’t expected someone to be leaning against the hood of your car, nor were you expecting it to be someone you knew.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” you mumbled.

Their answer had you taking a step back, stumbling over your own feet. When they stood to follow you, you spun on your heel and ran, darting past the building, feet pounding the pavement behind you. You yanked your phone from your back pocket and tried to unlock it as you ran, your finger slipping off the button, the lock screen mocking you as it shook but didn’t open, the ominous ‘Try Again’ on the screen.

The hit came from your side, knocking you to the ground, your phone flying out of your hand as your head bounced off the sidewalk. You tried to scream, but a blow to your chest had you gasping for air and blood flooding your mouth as a hand connected with your jaw. Hands closed around your throat and your vision went black as you teetered on the edge of consciousness.

Your head bounced along the ground as you were dragged across the grass. You struggled to get away, but it was weak, ineffectual, your body weighing a thousand pounds. The door slammed, leaving you in the dark, the only sound your pounding heart and ragged breaths.


	10. Missing Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve discovers that you’re missing.

_The moonlight reflected off of her hair, turning the strands a shimmery silver. He tangled his fingers in it, his hips coming off the chair as he pushed himself into her eager mouth._

_They’d come out here to watch the sunset, to see the moon over the cove, to watch the water lap the sandy beach. But he’d only been able to see her. She hadn’t argued when he’d pulled her into his lap and kissed her. And he hadn’t argued when she fell to her knees in front of him and took him in her mouth._

_He gasped her name as he came, her warm mouth engulfing his cock, their fingers intertwined, his head thrown back, eyes closed._

_A gust of ice cold wind pushed his hair off of his forehead, startling him. He opened his mouth to tell her they should go inside, but she was gone. He rose to his feet, eyes darting around, desperate to find her. Another gust of wind pushed him back a step and clouds covered the sky, the water slapping against the shore, cresting higher and higher._

_“Y/N?” he shouted, spinning in a circle. “Doll? Where are you?”_

_Only silence greeted him._

* * *

Steve jerked awake, his foot hitting the coffee table with a loud thump. He sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face. The dream had shaken him, especially when he was still basking in the glow of what had turned out to be one of the best weekends of his life. He’d expected it to be a good weekend, any time alone with Y/N was good, but it had been phenomenal. They hadn’t really done anything special, either - swimming, cooking, reading, making love. Jesus, just thinking about touching her had him half hard. If at all possible, he was more in love with her than ever. It made the idea of giving her the tiny black box with the one-carat diamond currently shoved in his sock drawer even more appealing.

The dream seemed like some kind of ominous warning. He forced himself to shake it off, to ignore the unease twisting in his gut. He’d be seeing her soon enough.

They had plans to meet for lunch on Tuesday, but that was more than twenty-four hours away and he didn’t think he could wait that long. He texted her, asking if she was available for dinner. He dropped his phone on the table and grabbed the stack of papers he’d been grading. He needed to finish them by the end of the week, before exams.

Two hours later, he was almost done, the stack dwindling rapidly. He huffed in irritation when the phone on his desk rang. He set the essay and his pen on the table beside his cell phone and hurried across the room to answer it. He snatched it up and tucked it between his cheek and his shoulder. “Professor Rogers,” he murmured.

“Hello, Professor Rogers, this is Natasha Romanoff. I’m, uh, Y/N’s roommate.”

“Of course, Ms. Romanoff. What can I do for you?” He dropped his pen to the desk, took a seat in his chair, and pushed a hand through his hair.

“I was wondering, is Y/N with you?” she asked.

“No, I haven’t seen her since, um...ten yesterday morning, I guess,” he replied. “Why?”

“She didn’t make it to work yesterday and she didn’t come home,” Nat answered. “I thought maybe she stayed with you longer, but...but I guess not.”

“What do you mean, she didn’t go to work? She said she was going straight to the coffee shop when she left the beach house.”

“I know, she texted me when she was on her way back and told me she would be home around ten. When she didn’t come home last night, I assumed she was with you,” Nat explained. “I’ve been texting and calling her all day, but she hasn’t responded. It went straight to voicemail. I even tried calling the coffee shop, which is when I found out that she hadn’t been at work. That’s when I decided to call you.”

“Have you called the police?”

“Professor Rogers -”

Steve sat up in his chair, clutching the phone so tightly his knuckles ached. “Have you called the police?” he repeated firmly.

“No...I...I didn’t...I wasn’t sure anything was wrong,” Nat murmured. “I kept hoping she was with you. I’m-I’m so sorry.”

“Save your apologies for later. Call the police, call anyone else who might know where she is,” Steve ordered. “I have a friend, she’s an FBI agent. I’m going to call her.” He didn’t wait for an answer, simply hung up the phone.

He vaulted out of his seat, snatched his cell phone off the desk, and dialed Sharon's number. It went to voicemail after a few rings, so he hung up and dialed again. This time she picked up, slightly out of breath.

“Steve? Hey, what’s up?”

He cut straight to the chase. “Y/N is missing.”

“What?”

He took a deep breath. “She’s missing. She left Sam’s beach house yesterday morning around ten and no one has seen her since.”

“Okay, okay, slow down,” Sharon said. “Let me grab something to write with.” He heard her shuffling around, her voice fading slightly before she came back. “Tell me what you know.”

Steve quickly explained everything he knew, which he discovered wasn’t much. He felt ridiculous calling Sharon when he didn’t know anything more than what he’d already told her.

“I’m going to call the local police and the state police,” Sharon said. “This isn’t an FBI thing right now. It could be nothing -”

“No one has seen her, Sharon, she’s _missing_ ,” he snapped.

“I know you’re worried, Steve,” she said gently. “Let me see what I can find out, okay? I’ll call you back in a little bit.”

Steve shoved his phone in his pocket and sat out on the couch, his head in his hands. He shouldn’t have let her go alone, they should have driven up and back together. He prayed there was a simple explanation for everything, family emergency, busted cell phone, car broke down, something, anything but the horrors his imagination was creating.

“Steve?” Sam opened his office door and stepped inside. “Hey, you wanna grab some coffee?”

Steve shook his head. “Not now,” he mumbled. “Maybe later.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked. “You okay?”

“No,” Steve sighed. “You got a minute?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Close the door,” Steve responded, gesturing for Sam to come in. He waited until Sam was seated across from him before he started to talk.

“Do you know who I took to the beach house this weekend?”

Sam shrugged. “I assumed it was a new girlfriend, or maybe Peggy. You two seemed to be getting close again in the last few weeks. Or so she says.”

“What do you mean, or so she says?”

“She’s telling anyone that will listen that you two are getting back together, that you’ve been working things out,” Sam explained.

“Peggy is delusional,” Steve scoffed. “She wants us back together, but it’s not happening.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. He would worry about Peggy later. 

“Tell her that,” Sam chuckled. “So, if it wasn’t Peggy, who was it?”

“I was with a student.”

Sam’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened. “I-uh...Um...are you kidding me? A student? Jesus, Steve, are you trying to get fired?”

Steve quickly explained his relationship with Y/N, everything, from the time they met to his admission to Tony, the stranger on the motorcycle, and finally, her disappearance. By the time he finished, his throat was dry and his hands were shaking.

Sam pushed himself to his feet, yanked open one of the overhead cabinets, and poured two drinks from the bottle Steve kept tucked in the back. He handed one to Steve, who downed it in two swallows and dropped the glass to the table.

“I can’t sit here anymore,” he grumbled.

“Then let’s go,” Sam said. “Nobody said we couldn’t go look for her, right? We’ll head for the beach house, check things out, see if we can find her. Or at least helps find her.”

“Right,” Steve nodded, rising to his feet. “Let’s go.”

* * *

He and Sam drove for almost an hour, Sam behind the wheel of the car, Steve staring out the window, hoping, praying he would see something, anything. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, nothing unusual, not until Sam pulled into a rest stop about an hour from the beach house. There were police cars and a forensics van crowded in the narrow parking lot, crime scene tape surrounding the small building holding the bathrooms, and people milling about. At the back of the lot, under some trees, sat Y/N’s car. 

Sam slowed to a stop several hundred feet from the closest police car. Steve threw his door open and hit the ground running. He reached the crime scene tape and was about to duck under it when he heard his name.

“Steve!”

He swung around to see Sharon walking his way, her eyes narrowed and her face pinched. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“I’m looking for Y/N,” he growled. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s...look, you have to promise me you won’t flip out, okay?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put her hand on his arm. “The police traced Y/N’s cell phone signal here,” Sharon said. “They found it in the grass over there. It was almost dead, a couple more hours and it would have been. Her car was parked over there, at the back of the lot, under those trees. It wasn’t noticeable from the road.”

“Did they…” Steve swallowed past the lump rising in his throat. “Did they find her?”

“No,” Sharon shook her head. “They’re checking the surrounding woods, but the officer in charge, Coulson, seems to think someone grabbed her and took her someplace else.”

“Oh, God,” he muttered. Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest and his breath caught in his throat. He was drowning under a wave of emotions, none of them good. He sank to the ground, right where he stood, his head in his hands.


	11. A Brief Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their relationship was my nightmare. I would do anything to make them understand that they don’t belong together.

I couldn’t move, I could only stare at the windows on the third floor, the things I’d seen burned into my retinas, and because apparently I felt the need to torture myself, I recorded them on my phone. I felt like puking, my stomach twisting and turning, disgusted by what I’d witnessed.

I’d been following them for days, wondering if it was all in my imagination, wondering if I was crazy to think they were together. I had convinced myself when I’d seen her leaving his apartment that there was a logical explanation, that she hadn’t been there with him all night. I’d gone to the bar and watched them, not together, but somehow that hadn’t seemed to matter. I saw the way she looked at him as if he belonged to her and she belonged to him.

I had to stop it, I had to do something to keep them apart. They weren’t meant to be,  _ we _ were. It was hard for anyone to understand, for anyone to comprehend, but our lives were meant to intersect, our lives were meant to be joined, we were destined to be together. And I would do anything I had to in order to make that a reality.

Anything. 

* * *

I was still reeling from what I’d witnessed in the library when I sent the pictures. My anger got the best of me when I discovered she’d gone to his place instead of hers. It was as if they were flaunting their relationship, shoving it in my face, at every turn.

But, I knew how to end it. If there was a chance Steve might lose his job or Y/N might get kicked out of school, they might end it. If I showed them the pictures, showed them that I held their fate in my hands, it would all be over. And I could breathe again, live again.

So I sent the pictures. I hated myself the minute I hit send, but I also knew it was for the best. I was looking out for them, showing them what they were doing was wrong. If you really thought about it, I was  _ helping _ them.

* * *

I’m still not sure what happened with her car. I saw it sitting there and something came over me and I just...snapped. I grabbed a screwdriver from the toolkit in my trunk and I lost it. I still can’t believe no one saw me stabbing her tires over and over again, until two of them were deflated, her car leaning oddly to one side. 

But my anger didn’t stop there. They just didn’t get it, couldn’t understand. I’d thought they did, I believed they did, especially when she stayed away from him for almost a week. I thought for sure that it was over, that they understood it had to end. 

I scribbled a note on a torn piece of paper and shoved it under the windshield before I drove away. That would make them understand.

* * *

I don’t know how or why I ended up outside her apartment, staring up at her window. I’d been driving through the streets on my motorcycle, weaving through traffic, reckless, not caring if I ended up like a bug on a windshield. I slowed to a stop and shut off the bike. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see her or if I didn’t. Seeing her only brought back the vile memories of what I had witnessed her and Steve doing at the library, seeing her only served to remind me that they were together and that their relationship stood in the way of me getting everything I wanted.

I pulled the visor on my helmet down and started my bike. I glanced one more time up at her apartment window, only to see Y/N staring down at me. Caught off guard, I did the only thing I could think of, I raised my hand and waved before putting the bike in gear and driving away. 

* * *

I’d taken her on impulse. I just wanted to talk to her, to tell her my side of the story, make her understand how I felt. But the second I’d laid eyes on her, the anger had washed over me, the resentment, the hurt. 

“Wh-what are you doing here?” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” I sighed. “I can’t let this continue. Your relationship with Steve needs to end.”

I didn’t expect her to run, but when she spun on her heel and took off, I had no choice but to follow. I didn’t want to hurt her, I just wanted her to listen to me. I didn’t want to hurt her, but when she opened her mouth to scream, I had no choice, I had to hit her.

I just wanted to talk to her. I just wanted her to understand.

I am the only one that matters.


	12. Missing Day 4

Your head hit the wall, the fingers twisted in your hair pulling it sharply, tearing it from your scalp. Tears slid down your face as pain erupted in your skull. You twisted to your right and kicked with your left foot, connecting to the meat of your captor’s thigh. The hand in your hair let go and you fell to your hands and knees, groaning. You glanced at the door, wondering if you could make it in your current condition. You scrambled to your feet, determined to try, and darted for the door. A hand reached out and grabbed your ankle. You fell, again, your scream of frustration echoing off the walls. Two knees dropped into the center of your back, knocking the air out of you, then your head was slammed into the floor, red stars bursting behind your eyelids.

* * *

“Wake up, you fucking bitch.”

Cold water hit your face and you gasped, sucking it up into your nose, sputtering, unable to breathe for a fraction of a second.

You shoved yourself backward until your back hit the wall. You stared at the person standing in front of you, your heart pounding so hard you were sure it would beat out of your chest.

“Jesus, what the hell does he see in you? You’re a simpering, whiny bitch.”

“F-fuck you,” you croaked.

You flinched, bracing yourself for the blow you knew was coming, but it never came, instead, the door slammed shut and you heard footsteps hurrying away.

You leaned your head against the wall and closed your eyes. You’d cried all the tears you were going to cry that first night. You weren’t going to make it out of this alive. You knew that and you’d come to terms with it. That didn’t change the fact that every time you closed your eyes, you could see Steve, feel Steve, sometimes you even thought you could hear him. You knew it was only your imagination, but you clung to those moments because you were terrified you would never get another one.

You waited, sure that your captor would return to finish what had been started, but when the light began to change, the shadows shifting, you realized that you were alone. You watched as the room grew dark, the sun setting outside. By your count, you’d been locked in here for two, maybe three days. You thought it was Tuesday, though it could have been Wednesday, one of the two. They had to be looking for you, they had to be. 

Frustrated and angry, you pushed yourself to your feet and limped to the door. For what was probably the hundredth time since you’d been locked in here, you pounded on the door, screaming to be let out. You wrapped your hands around the doorknob and shook it, stumbling back and falling on your ass when the door popped open.

Shocked, you could only stare at the open door. Once you realized that yes, the door stood open, you rose slowly to your feet and stepped tentatively through it. You were in what looked like a basement - there were a washer and dryer in the corner, shelves covered in dust, a table in the corner with a tarp thrown over it, and on the other side of the room, stairs. You stopped just outside the door and listened, your eyes squeezed closed, concentrating. When you didn’t hear anything, you shuffled across the room, moving quickly and quietly.

You were almost to the stairs when the door at the top opened. You ducked behind a stack of boxes and held your breath.

“Shit!”

Your captor rushed past your hiding spot and into the room you’d been held in. As soon as they were out of sight, you slipped out from behind the boxes and hurried to the stairs. You were almost to the top when you were hit from behind. You fell forward, your feet still under you, your shoulder hitting the wall. The slap was so hard it sent you reeling backward, your ass hitting a small table against the wall. As you started to slide to the floor, the hand was back in your hair, pulling you to your feet. Another hand wrapped around your throat, the nails digging into the skin, squeezing.

“Let me go,” you gasped.

A burning pain slashed across your forehead and you screamed, you couldn’t help it. Blood ran down your temple and pooled in your eye, turning everything a hazy pinkish color. Another slice of the blade opened a cut across your cheekbone and then one in a vertical line down your upper arm. You let loose an ungodly howl of pain. Tears ran into the cut on your cheek, making it sting even more. Droplets of blood fell from your arm to the floor, staining the carpet.

“Jesus, you’re a stubborn bitch,” your captor growled, face inches from your, spittle flying in your face. “I am fucking done with this shit and with you. This ends now.”

A scream tore from your throat as you planted your hands in the center of your captor’s chest and shoved as hard as you could. There was a loud crash and the next thing you knew, you were running, running for your life, unsure of what happened or how you got away, all you knew was you had to move, and you had to move fast. You burst through the door at the end of the hall, tripping and falling to your knees in the grass, but quickly getting your feet under you again. You turned and limped up the street as fast as you could without looking back.

* * *

“This is going to sting.”

You swallowed back a wry chuckle. Of course, it was going to hurt, but no more than the multitude of bruises covering your body, or the other cuts on your forehead or your arm. Stitches in your cheek were nothing compared to what you’d already been through.

“Is Steve here yet?” you murmured.

Natasha squeezed your hand. “Not yet, sweetheart, but he’s on his way. Sergeant Coulson is waiting to talk to you. Are you ready to talk to him?”

You closed your eyes, a sigh escaping you. After escaping, you’d stopped at the first house with lights. The startled residents - a young couple about your age - had called 911, then they’d given you their phone and you dialed the only number you had committed to memory, your apartment. Natasha had gotten to the hospital ahead of you and she was waiting impatiently when they brought you into the emergency room. You’d burst into tears the second you’d seen her and you’d refused to let go of her hand. The doctors had no choice but to let her stay with you. A police car had followed the ambulance to the hospital, but the doctor refused to let them talk to you until someone examined you. 

While the nurse gave you pain medication and the doctor took care of your stitches, Nat excused herself to look for Steve and hold off Coulson. You wanted to sleep, in fact, you were desperate to sleep, but you had to see Steve, had to tell him you were okay, tell him who had done this to you. You had to warn him.

The doctor had just finished the last stitch and was taking off his gloves when the curtain was pulled back. Steve strode past the nurse and the doctor, dropping to his knees beside the bed. He took your face in his hands, tilting it back to examine it, utterly silent. He brushed a thumb over the stitches on your cheek and then on your forehead. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. Your heart skipped a beat as his blue eyes locked with yours. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet and tense, his anger barely restrained.

“Who did this to you, doll?”

* * *

“Did you find her?”

Steve made for an intimidating figure, standing in front of Sergeant Coulson, his arms crossed, biceps bulging, his face hard and angry.

Coulson shifted nervously from foot to foot, fidgeting with the notebook in his hand. You didn’t think police officers used those anymore, but Coulson seemed old school, so you weren’t surprised he clung to the old ways. He turned to face you, standing at the foot of your bed, glancing over his shoulder at Steve before he spoke.

“We apprehended her at the airport getting ready to board a flight to Austin. She, of course, denied everything. She said you’re delusional, that you were jealous of her friendship with Steve, and that all of this is an elaborate lie.”

“That’s...that’s a lie -”

Coulson patted your foot. “It’s okay, Y/N. We suspected she was lying from the get-go, she was moving pretty tentatively, as if she was injured. She was unable to account for her whereabouts when you disappeared, and once we had a warrant and we were able to get into her house, it was undeniable that something had happened there. It looks like she tried to clean up, but we found blood in the hallway and a broken coffee table in the backyard trash. Based on what you told us, that was more than enough evidence to arrest her. She’s in jail, waiting on Agent Fury from the FBI to arrive. And her lawyer.”

“How long can you hold her?” Steve asked.

“If we charge her, then she can’t be released until she posts bail,” Coulson replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back.” He shook Steve’s hand and smiled at you as he left, the door swinging shut behind him.

As soon as he was gone, you sagged back against the pillows, tears sliding down your face, the relief that she had been caught overwhelming you. Steve sat on the edge of the bed, took your hand, leaned over, and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m so sorry, doll,” he whispered.

You clutched the front of his shirt, holding him close. “You didn’t do anything,” you murmured. “None of this is your fault.”

“If I hadn’t introduced you, if we weren’t together -”

“Don’t say that,” you gasped. “That’s what she wants, for you to believe this is all your fault. She still loves you, Steve. She wants you for yourself.”

“See, that’s what I don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head. “She broke up with me.”

“All a ploy,” you sighed. “She told me that she thought if she let you go, you’d come back to her. I screwed everything up.”

“Well, it’s all over now. Sharon can’t hurt you anymore.” Steve kissed you gently. “I should go, let you get some rest.”

You tightened your hold on his shirt and shook your head. “No, you can’t leave me.” You could hear the panic in your voice, but you didn’t care. He wasn’t leaving you.

“Okay, okay, doll, I’ll stay.”

You slid to the edge of the tiny bed so Steve could lie down beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, mindful of the IV, and held you close. You rested your head against his chest and closed your eyes.


	13. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You start the long process of healing. Meanwhile, Steve searches for answers.

The second day Y/N was in the hospital, her friend Bucky showed up carrying a stuffed bear and a small bouquet of flowers. He stopped short when he saw Steve sitting beside the bed holding her hand, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Bucky,” Steve said, rising to his feet and holding out his hand. “It’s good to see you.”

“Professor Rogers,” Bucky murmured as he shook Steve’s hand. “I, uh, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Um, well, Y/N and I have been dating for several months,” he explained. He wasn’t sure which of Y/N’s friends, aside from Natasha, knew about their relationship.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, “Nat told me. I just...well, honestly, I didn’t think you’d be here. I know that you two are supposed to keep things quiet -”

“I couldn’t care less about that anymore,” Steve muttered. “She’s all that matters.”

“Bucky?” Y/N mumbled from behind them. “What are you doing here?”

Bucky pushed past Steve, dropped the bear and flowers on the bed, and hugged Y/N. He settled in the chair Steve had just vacated, Y/N’s hand loosely clasped in his.

“You scared the crap out of us, you know that right?” he said. “We were so worried about you. You have no idea how relieved I am that you are okay.”

Steve interrupted them long enough to excuse himself, promising to return as soon as possible. Y/N protested, encouraging him to stay, but once he explained that he needed a shower and a change of clothes, she reluctantly agreed. She elicited a promise to return as quickly as possible before kissing him goodbye. 

On his way home, he called Sam, telling him what he had planned. It took some persuasion, but Sam finally agreed to talk to his girlfriend, Maria, a lieutenant with the local police department.

“Give me twenty minutes, Steve,” Sam said. “I’ll call you back after I talk to her.”

Once he’d showered and changed, he sat on the edge of his couch, waiting impatiently for Sam to call back. He’d just started to think that he wasn’t going to when his phone rang.

“I’m downstairs. Maria said yes. Get your ass out here and let’s go.” 

* * *

“Steve, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Sam said again, a mantra he’d been chanting since they’d left his apartment.

“You’ve told me that about a hundred times, Sam. I have to do this, I have to talk to her.” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “I swear it won’t be more than ten to fifteen minutes.”

“You’re lucky Maria is understanding,” Sam grumbled. He swerved around one of the cars parked in the lot and pulled to a stop under a tree. “And that she loves me. She’s waiting for you inside. She said she can give you about ten minutes and that’s it.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded. He shoved open the door and hurried inside the police station.

Maria met him inside and, without a word, gestured for him to follow her. She didn’t say anything until they were in the hallway headed toward the cells.

“Stay away from the bars, Steve. You’ve got ten minutes, not one minute longer. If anybody asks, you’re a detective from upstate here to ask her some questions. Got it?” She crossed her arms and stared at him, her foot tapping.

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve replied. “I really appreciate this, Maria. I just...I need some answers.”

“That’s the reason I’m doing this,” Maria said. “You and that girl of yours deserve answers. What Sharon did was fucked up. You deserve to know what the hell she was thinking. I’m going to be down at the end of the hall if you need me.” 

They stopped at the end of the hallway, outside of a small cell. Sharon was sitting on the floor, her arms resting on her knees. She got up as soon as she saw him, stepped up to the bars, and wrapped her hands around them.

“Steve,” she breathed. “I knew you’d come.”

“What?”

“I’ve been asking to see you, but I didn’t think they would let you. I’m so glad you’re here. I need to talk to you about what happened.” A small smile danced across her face.

Steve took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. He was barely holding onto his sanity, teetering on the edge and close to falling off. But, he needed answers, so he would humor her if he had to. "Okay. Why did you want to see me?"

"I know you probably hate me -"

Steve couldn't help the snort that left him, which, much to his surprise, brought a wide smile to Sharon’s face.

“I did what I did because I was looking out for you, protecting you. That...that girl, she isn’t right for you, she doesn’t love you, not like I do.” 

“I don’t understand, Sharon.  _ You _ broke up with  _ me _ . You told me you weren’t interested in a long term relationship with me. Now you’re telling me you love me?”

Sharon shook her head and sighed. “Haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘ _ If you love them, let them go _ ’? That’s what I did with you. I knew that you didn’t love me like I love you, so I let you go. But I always knew, deep inside, that you would come back to me. I just had to be patient. Y/N was a bump in the road -”

Steve had heard enough. “That “bump in the road” is the woman I love,” he snarled. “And you kidnapped her and tried to kill her, Sharon. You’re a fucking maniac.”

Tears welled up in Sharon’s eyes and her lower lip trembled. “H-how can you say that to me? I’m the one you love. I’m the one you belong with, not that simpering bitch. What is wrong with you? How can you be so blind?”

He rolled his eyes so hard it actually hurt. He clenched his fists at his sides and resisted the urge to reach through the bars and throttle her. 

“I trusted you, I thought you were my friend, I thought you were helping us. Instead, you tried to destroy everything I’ve built over the last few years. You tried to take away my livelihood and the woman I love. You tried to take everything from me. Jail is too good for you.”

Before Sharon could say anything else, Steve spun on his heel and hurried back down the hall, pushing past Maria, hitting the door so hard it bounced off the wall. He mumbled his thanks to Sam’s girlfriend, before bursting through the front door of the police station. He dragged in one deep breath after another, the chilly fall air instantly clearing his head. It might have been a mistake to see Sharon, but he had to do it and even though he was angry enough to choke her, he was glad he’d done it. At least now he knew.

“She’s fucking crazy,” he muttered to himself.

* * *

The doctor let him take her home after she’d been in the hospital for three days. Of course, home meant back to his apartment. There was no way she was going anywhere else. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d let her out of his sight any time soon. He settled her on the couch, fussing over her, adjusting the blanket, getting her water, the remote, even a stack of books, until she glared at him and told him to “knock it off, I’m fine”.

Steve pulled her feet into his lap, one arm thrown over the back of the couch. “I guess we should talk about Sharon.”

He didn’t care for the flash of fear in her eyes or the way her lower lip trembled. He rubbed her leg, squeezing her calf gently. “Hey, look at me,” he murmured.

She did as he asked, her throat moving as she swallowed and one tear sliding down her cheek. She blew out a shaky breath, her eyes on his.

“Sharon can’t hurt you anymore,” he said calmly, even though his heart was racing. “I swear, I will not let her hurt you ever again. Okay?”

“O-okay,” she nodded.

Steve tucked her against his side and pressed a kiss against her temple, then her neck just below her ear, his lips sliding along her jaw until he reached her mouth. He licked carefully at her bottom lip, sighing as his tongue danced over hers. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“What? Why?” she mumbled, pulling away to look at him.

“If it wasn’t for me, none of this would have happened,” Steve sighed. “I brought her into your life -”

“Knock it off, Rogers,” she interrupted him. “I won’t have you blaming yourself for something a crazy woman did. Sharon’s off her rocker. She lives in her own reality that does not include the truth in any way, shape, or form. You thought she was a friend, that she was trying to help. You had no way of knowing that she was nuts. I don’t blame you even a little bit.”

“So, does that mean you forgive me?” he chuckled.

“Come here,” she giggled, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and brushing a kiss across his lips.

“I love you, doll,” he whispered against her lips.

“I love you, too,” she replied.


	14. Reclamation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You want to reclaim your relationship and life with Professor Rogers.

Steve went back to work the following Monday and for the first few hours after he left, you were fine. You called Natasha, who promised to stop by after her classes, and you answered some emails, mostly friends and family expressing their relief that you were home safe. Even a few of your professors had emailed you, all of them excusing you from any work for the next two weeks and offering their help if you needed it. You were overwhelmed with the kindness of the people in your life.

You thought you were doing okay, but as the day progressed, you began to feel more and more anxious with every minute that passed. You found yourself staring at the apartment door, hoping Steve would come home early. Every unexpected sound made you jump, even your cell phone vibrating nearly sent you through the roof. You tried to take a nap, watch TV, anything, but instead, you found yourself pacing around the small apartment, occasionally glancing at the door.

When Steve finally walked through the door, a little before six, you threw yourself into his arms, burying your face against his chest, breathing in his scent, drawing comfort from being in his arms. He held you close, his hands drifting up and down your back, murmuring quietly.

By the end of the week, you thought you were going to go insane. You needed to get out, get some fresh air, so you called Bucky and begged him to go get some coffee with you. You’d promised Steve you wouldn’t go anywhere alone, at least not until the police had finished their investigation and they were sure that Sharon had been working alone. You were thrilled when Bucky agreed to go with you.

You hooked your arm through Bucky’s as soon as you stepped out of the car, keeping yourself as close to him as possible. “Thank you, Buck. I was losing my mind cooped up in the apartment.”

“No worries,” Bucky smiled. “I’ve missed you. When are you coming back to school?”

“Another week, per doctor’s orders,” you sighed. “I had a concussion, so he wants me to ease back into work and school, take my time. Since I’m still getting headaches if I read too much, he must be on to something. I’m bored out of my mind, though.”

“Well, let’s caffeinate you and I’ll fill you in on the gossip,” Bucky laughed. “Which, to no one’s surprise, is about you and the insanely gorgeous Professor Rogers.”

You rolled your eyes as Bucky yanked open the door to the coffee shop and ushered you inside. You were enthusiastically greeted by your friends and your boss, and given a cup of your favorite coffee before you and Bucky took a seat in the back corner of the coffee shop.

“So, how bad are the rumors, Buck?” you murmured, sipping your coffee.

“About you? Honestly, they’re not bad at all. Just rumors that you’re dating the Professor, something crazy happened with one of his ex-girlfriends, and you almost died.”

“Those aren’t rumors, those are true,” you muttered. “Steve and I were supposed to keep our relationship low key, fly under the radar. I don’t think that’s the case anymore. Not since -” You shook your head and closed your eyes, desperately trying to get the image of that woman out of your head. 

“You okay, Y/N?” Bucky asked.

“I can’t get her out of my head, Buck. She...she haunts me, almost every waking thought and my nightmares. My life isn’t my own anymore.” You swiped angrily at the tear sliding down your cheek. “She took that away from me, made me feel like I’m not safe anywhere or with anyone.”

“You need to reclaim your life, Y/N, take back what’s yours,” Bucky said firmly. “This, right here, you and me having coffee like we used to, that’s a step in the right direction. Take back everything she tried to take from you.” Bucky leaned forward, his arms on the table, staring intently at you. “She has no power over you, none. She’s sitting in a jail cell where she belongs. And I know what you’re thinking. Take it all back, all of it. Including Steve.”

“Bucky -”

“Don’t argue with me,” he cut you off. “You know I’m right.”

Your mouth snapped shut. Bucky was right. You had to take back your life. Sharon had tried to steal it away from you, but you couldn’t let her. You needed to take back everything.

“When did you get so smart?” you mumbled.

Bucky squeezed your hand. “When I found out some bitch tried to hurt my best friend,” he smiled. “I’m not going to let her ruin what you have with the Professor. You deserve to be happy. And I’ve never seen you happier than you are with Steve. Explains all those goofy grins during class. It wasn’t just a crush.”

“Thank you, Bucky,” you giggled. “You really are a great friend.”

“You’re welcome,” he chuckled. “Now, start talking. I want to know what dating Professor Rogers is really like.”

* * *

By the time you got back to Steve’s apartment, you were exhausted and your head was pounding. You secured the door behind you, the lock and the deadbolt, and tossed your jacket on the couch as you passed it on the way to the bedroom. You sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off your shoes and socks, then you pushed off the jeans you’d been wearing before stretching out on the bed and immediately falling asleep.

A warm body curling around you woke you from a deep sleep. Soft lips pressed kisses to the back of your neck and large hands drifted over the curves of your body. You turned to look over your shoulder right into a set of gorgeous blue eyes.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” Steve whispered.

“I think it’s in my jacket pocket on the couch,” you replied, stretching your arms over your head. “Sorry.”

“How was coffee with Bucky?” he whispered.

“It was nice to get out,” you said. “I’m glad I went.”

“That’s great,” he smiled. Steve kissed you again before sliding to the edge of the bed. “I’m going to get some food.”

“Wait.” You grabbed his hand and held it tightly. “Stay here, just for a few minutes.” You yanked him back down onto the bed beside you and pulled his arms around you.

He brushed a kiss across your lips. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“You know what? I’m good,” you smiled. “Especially now that you’re home.”

“Mmm, I’m glad to be home, too,” he murmured. One hand slid up and under your shirt, splayed across your back. He kissed you, a deep, intense kiss that had your toes curling. You threw your leg over his and pressed yourself flush against him.

Steve pushed your shirt up and over your head, cupping your breast in his hand, kneading it gently. You moaned, a shudder racing through you as goosebumps erupted all over your bare skin. Steve unhooked your bra and slid it slowly down your arms as he rolled you to your back and kissed a trail from your neck to your breasts. Not surprisingly, he was very gentle, the touch of his lips to the healing bruises littering your torso feather-light, though they still drove you wild with need. His hand drifted down your stomach and into your underwear, his fingers dancing through the silken folds, tenderly caressing you.

You sighed, tangled your fingers in his hair, closed your eyes, and let the sensations take over. Steve hooked a finger in the waistband of your underwear and pushed them off, slowly moving down your body, kissing every inch of exposed skin. He lifted your leg and pulled it over his shoulder, raining kissing all over your inner thighs, occasionally nipping and biting, until you were on fire with desire. You were near to begging when he slowly licked a long stripe with his flattened tongue through the lips of your pussy.

“Steve,” you gasped, hips bucking.

He growled, his tongue delving deep inside of you, nearly sending you over the edge. He sucked on your clit, rolling it between his lips, driving you insane with pleasure, over and over again until you were coming hard, screaming his name as the waves of pure bliss consumed you. You were a boneless mess when he finally released you, barely able to move. He kissed his way up your body, suckling your breasts before moving to your neck, up to your jaw, and to your mouth. The taste of your slick on his lips brought a moan out of you and you wanted him, wanted him so badly that you thought you might explode with need. You frantically fumbled with the button on his jeans, yanking them open and shoving them down past his hips. 

Steve kneeled between your legs and hurriedly removed his clothes. He laid down beside you, turning you to face him, and pulled your leg over his hip. He lined himself up with your entrance and eased into you, his hips rolling agonizingly slow. You dug your nails into his shoulders, moaning into his neck as moved with tight, hard thrusts.

He slipped his hand between your bodies, easily finding your clit, rubbing the swollen nub as his hips flexed, burying himself inside of you. You were close, his touch sending tingles of fire through every nerve ending. He caught your lips in his, kissing you, the rhythm of his tongue matching that of the slip and slide of his cock in and out of your warm heat.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him tight, gasping his name, tears forming in the corner of your eyes as every feeling you’d been holding back rushed to the forefront. You broke, the orgasm slamming into you, starbursts of white light going off behind your eyes, heat flooding you.

Steve was panting, his hips pumping faster and faster until he let go with a deep growl of your name. He gripped your shoulders, pulling you down onto him, his hips flexing, pushing his cock deeper inside of you with every thrust before he relaxed with a loud sigh. He rolled to his back, keeping you close to him, his arms still around you. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands running over your bare skin.

“You okay?” he whispered. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

You kissed his cheek and pushed his hair off his face. “I’m fine,” you smiled. 

In fact, you were better than fine. You really felt like you had taken back some of what Sharon had tried to take away from you. You rested your head on Steve’s shoulder and closed your eyes. You were almost asleep when Steve murmured your name.

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you a question?” he said.

“Of course,” you replied, propping your chin on his arm and looking up at him.

“You’ve been staying here, for what, a week now?”

You nodded, your heart pounding faster as you wondered where he was going with this.

He hugged you close, his knuckles brushing over the healing cut on your cheek. “Why don’t we make it permanent?”

You pushed yourself up on one elbow, staring intently at Steve. You swallowed past the lump rising in your throat. “Wh-what are you asking me, exactly?”

“I want you to move in with me, doll,” he chuckled. “If you want to, that is.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you weren’t sure you could speak. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before blurting out “Yes”. Tears streamed down your face as you threw yourself at Steve, erupting in giggles when he groaned in mock pain.

“Thank God,” he muttered.

“Were you afraid I’d say no?”

“A little,” he laughed.

“I love you, Professor Rogers,” you sighed. “You might never get rid of me now.”

“I like that idea,” he murmured, burying his nose in your hair. He kissed you behind your ear and nipped gently at your earlobe. “I like that idea a lot.”


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been seven months since you moved in with Professor Rogers.

**_Previously on In Too Deep…_ **

_“Can I ask you a question?” he said._

_“Of course,” you replied, propping your chin on his arm and looking up at him._

_“You’ve been staying here, for what, a week now?”_

_You nodded, your heart pounding faster as you wondered where he was going with this._

_He hugged you close, his knuckles brushing over the healing cut on your cheek. “Why don’t we make it permanent?”_

_You pushed yourself up on one elbow, staring intently at Steve. You swallowed past the lump rising in your throat. “Wh-what are you asking me, exactly?”_

_“I want you to move in with me, doll,” he chuckled. “If you want to, that is.”_

_Your breath caught in your throat and you weren’t sure you could speak. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before blurting out “Yes”. Tears streamed down your face as you threw yourself at Steve, erupting in giggles when he groaned in mock pain._

_“Thank God,” he muttered._

_“Were you afraid I’d say no?”_

_“A little,” he laughed._

_“I love you, Professor Rogers,” you sighed. “You might never get rid of me now.”_

_“I like that idea,” he murmured, burying his nose in your hair. He kissed you behind your ear and nipped gently at your earlobe. “I like that idea a lot.”_

* * *

**_Seven Months Later_ **

Steve was exhausted. Sharon’s trial had stretched out over six weeks, an agonizingly long six weeks that had nearly destroyed Y/N. If it hadn’t been for the support of her friends, his friends, and her therapist, Dr. Banner, he wasn’t sure the two of them would have made it through it. While confronting the woman who had nearly killed her in court had been incredibly therapeutic, it had been especially taxing as well. During the duration of the trial, she’d retreated into herself, the nightmares had come back, and she had taken to hiding out in their apartment, afraid to venture outside.

Fortunately, Sharon had been convicted on a multitude of charges, including kidnapping and attempted murder. She was going to be in jail for a very long time. Maybe he and Y/N could finally get back to living their life. And maybe he could finally ask her to marry him.

It hadn’t occurred to him that it would be difficult to ask her to marry him. Perhaps difficult wasn’t the right word, maybe terrifying was a better way of putting it. He’d wracked his brain for almost a week, ever since the end of the trial, desperately trying to figure out how to ask her, something that wasn’t stupid, lame, or downright cheesy.

After coming up with and rejecting a multitude of ideas, he’d decided that simple and straightforward was the best idea. That was why he was sitting on the couch in his office, waiting not-so-patiently for her to arrive, his foot tapping as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his palms sweating. He kept taking the ring out of his pocket and looking at it.

“Steve?” he heard her yell from his classroom.

“In my office,” he yelled, shoving the ring back into his pocket.

Y/N stepped through the office door a few seconds later. She looked slightly frazzled, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, wearing old jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt. There were dark circles under her eyes thanks to the nightmares that had been interrupting her sleep. He would have given anything to make them magically disappear, to heal her emotional wounds like her physical wounds had healed, faded to nothing. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible.

“Hey, doll,” he smiled. “You okay?”

“I’m exhausted,” she sighed. “I just...just want to sleep.” She set her bag on the floor and dropped to the couch beside him. She stretched out, put her feet in his lap, and threw an arm over her eyes. “I’m so glad that damn trial is over. Maybe life can get back to normal now.”

Steve rubbed her thigh, hoping to soothe her, to calm her nerves. He watched her intently.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, pushing herself upright. She slid closer and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, drawing a smile from him. “How was your day, Professor Rogers?”

“I missed you,” he murmured. 

She rested her forehead against his. “You just saw me this morning,” she smiled.

He growled low in the back of his throat and pulled her into his lap. He cupped her face between his hands and kissed her, his tongue dancing over her lips. The kiss was a little desperate, a little needy, and a lot wanting. He cupped her breast, her back arching to push into his hand, a needy gasp leaving her.

But Steve wasn’t ready to go there yet, even though parts of him were screaming at him to rip off her clothes and take her in every way imaginable. Instead, he put his hands on her waist and set her beside him. She pouted, her bottom lip poking out, her fingers twisted in his shirt. He laughed and brushed his thumb over her lower lip.

“Later, doll, I promise,” he chuckled. “I need to talk to you about something first.”

“Okay,” she said, drawing out the word. “What is it?”

Steve understood her trepidation after everything they’d gone through the last year. Things were good now, they were happy. He was hoping to make her - them - even happier. He reached into his pocket and for the hundredth time today he pulled the ring free. He put it on his pinky finger and held up his hand, staring into her eyes, grinning as they widened in understanding. He felt her hands shaking where they rested on his arms.

"I wanted to make this really special and fancy, but I decided simple was best, because we’re not complicated, or wild, or full of pomp and circumstance -”

“Steve,” she muttered.

“Sorry,” he whispered. He sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat. He took her left hand and held it loosely in his. “Doll, will you marry me?”

Y/N stared at him for what felt like an eternity, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might jump out of his chest while he waited for her to say something, do something. After what seemed like forever, she took the ring from him and put it in the palm of her hand, examining it closely.

“Yes,” she whispered so quietly he barely heard it. She slipped the ring on her finger, a tear slipping from the corner of one eye. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face against the side of his neck, murmuring ‘yes’ over and over again.

Steve felt the sobs that wracked her body, feel her tears against his neck. He rubbed her back and pressed kisses to her cheek, her jaw, and her temple.

“Hey,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”

Y/N sat up, wiping at the tears streaming down her cheeks. She giggled, grabbed his face in her hands and scratched her fingers through his beard. “It’s better than okay,” she laughed. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

Steve lowered her to the couch, laying her beneath him, raining kisses over her bare skin as he pulled off her clothes before pulling off his own. He eased his hand between her legs, his fingers teasing at her opening, slowly tracing the lips of her pussy. He slipped just the tip of one finger inside of her, just to the knuckle, his thumb circling her clit, his body responding to the sounds coming from her, the thrust of her hips, the feel of her breath on his face.

She pressed her lips to his ear. “Steve, stop teasing,” she moaned, her legs falling open.

Steve groaned and slid two fingers inside of her, her hips rocking up to meet his hand. He kissed her as he thrust his fingers in and out of her, holding her tight against him, the feel of her skin against his better than any other feeling in the world.

He rolled to his back as she straddled him and lowered herself onto his aching cock, slowly, taking her time, teasing him as he’d teased her, her hips rolling. She put her palms flat on his chest, gasping as he filled her, pushing down onto him as he thrust up and into her.

She leaned over him, her breasts brushing against his chest, her lips on his, kissing him, moaning into his mouth. She dug her nails into his chest, marking him, her head thrown back as the orgasm took her. He was right behind her, her walls tightening around him, the sounds she was making, the feel of her coming undone pulling his own orgasm from him, pushing him over the edge. 

When it was over, they laid together, legs tangled, bodies pressed together, fingers intertwined. Steve kept looking at the ring on her finger, unable to believe that this was finally happening. He needed her, needed her like air, maybe even more than that. She was his entire world and now, she was his forever.


End file.
